Harry Potter and the Labyrinth of the Mind
by Phoenix Writer1
Summary: COMPLETE! Harry survived his 5th year at Hogwarts, but so did Voldemort. With the loss of the prophecy, Voldemort launches his most daring plan yet. Harry is targeted, but not for death. Can he find the power to stop Voldemort?
1. The Gathering Storm

Disclaimer: (I nearly forgot to do this... Bad Author! *goes off to iron her hands*) I do not own anything related to Harry Potter (although there was that box of Everyflavor Beans... never mind). It all belongs to JK Rowling. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only.  
  
Author's Note: I really want to thank my wonderful and patient beta reader, Moriah S. Mo, you've really done a lot for this story! Folks, give the lady a round of applause. PLEASE review! I need all the constructive remarks I can get!  
  
HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND  
  
Chapter One - The Gathering Storm  
  
The night was dark and sultry with impending rain. Since late afternoon, the dark clouds had been gathering, fitful gusts of wind tossing the trees of Privet Drive. Now, at nearly one in the morning, the winds had stilled and everything was hot and hushed, waiting for the storm to break.  
  
The windows of Number 4 were, at this hour, dark and shuttered. That is, all but one. One upper window, though dark, had its shutters flung wide and a boy sat at it, watching the gathering storm. The boy's dark hair stood wildly on end, as if the winds had already been at work inside the house. The pale face was visible in the faint green light of a luminous alarm clock. His features had the uncertain look of a boy whose physical maturity was making a desperate attempt at matching the emotional experience which showed in the deep green eyes below the thin, white scar. For this boy was Harry Potter and the somber expression in his eyes and the visible remains on his forehead of the failed killing curse were indications of how much it cost him to be the Boy Who Lived.  
  
Harry had sat at this window every night for nearly a month now. He wasn't really expecting to see anything, although there had been a few owls from his friends bringing him whatever news there was to be had. No, mostly, Harry just sat and thought. At first, his mind replayed the sequence of events leading up to Sirius' disappearance through the veiled arch in the Department of Mysteries. However, after a week of hopeless brooding, even Harry had to admit there was nothing he could have done, nothing anyone could have done to prevent it. It was hopeless, pointless, and stupid, but Sirius was gone and there simply wasn't anything more to say.  
  
Of course, that fact didn't fill the dark hole inside Harry. Even though he had never actually had much time with Sirius, he had come to think of his godfather as family even more his own than the Weasleys and certainly more than the Dursleys had ever been. Harry may have accepted that Sirius' death wasn't all his fault (though he wasn't entirely sure he had accepted it), but he still grieved deeply for the dynamic, restless man he had come to love almost as a father.  
  
The turbulence of his feelings over the events of the past year was still painfully great. After nights of turning everything over in his mind, Harry had found some measure of comfort in Professor Dumbldore's confession after Sirius' death. There was still some anger over all that had been hidden from him for so long, but that was gradually fading into indignation and, Harry knew, would probably subside given more time. It would not, however, be forgotten. Harry couldn't help feeling gratitude toward Dumbledore for the affection and esteem the old headmaster had for him, but something had changed in the headmaster's office as the sun rose that desperate morning.  
  
Once, Harry had held Albus Dumbledore in awe as an all-powerful and all-seeing presence - at once, guide and hope of survival for all the wizarding world. Now, however, the image had shifted. Dumbledore was still a powerful wizard and a force to be reckoned with, but he was no longer all. He was a great man, but a man, just the same, with strengths and failings like any other. With the knowledge of the prophecy came the knowledge that Harry could no longer dismiss his worries in the comfortable belief that as long as there was Dumbledore, all would be well. He had seen, first hand, that this couldn't be. Dumbledore had not been able to protect the school from Dolores Umbridge and that had nearly cost Professor McGonagall her life. Dumbledore had been in the same room as Sirius fell through the archway but there had been no miraculous magic to save him.  
  
After that, Harry's thoughts turned to Voldemort and Professor Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix. Thanks to a few carefully selected, heavily charmed owls, there had been more news in the letters he received. From Hermione, Harry learned that members of the Order were on 24 hour guard at her family's home and would remain so indefinitely, even once Hermione had returned to Hogwarts. It was a real relief to Harry to know that Hermione and her parents wouldn't be left alone with Death Eaters on the move.  
  
Ron was at The Burrow and, although Mrs. Weasley was expert at keeping her younger children out of earshot of Order business, Ron had seen enough comings and goings to know a little of what went on and he owled it all to Harry.  
  
"...It seems like bloody chaos around here, really, Ron wrote. "Dad, Bill, and Charlie are in and out of here at all hours. They can't disapparate or floo from the house because of the ward charms, so the they have to walk down to a safe place near the village. Bill is still working for Gringotts, but I think that really means he is working on the goblins. Can't say more here. Charlie is back home for the summer, but he'll go back to Romania in September. I don't know what he gets up to. The twins are running their joke shop in Diagon Alley and Lee Jordan is helping them. I guess sales have been pretty good. They're looking into adding an owl post order catalog. I'm still working on Mum and Dad to get you here to The Burrow soon. They're bound to crack. Mum worries herself sick over you with those muggles..."  
  
There had even been an owl from Lupin. It was brief, just letting Harry know the Order had established new Headquarters and that all was well. Harry could tell Lupin didn't have the heart for chatty notes these days, but the last bit of his letter did make Harry smile.  
  
"...Remember, Harry, what we told your relatives. If they aren't treating you well, send word to Mrs. Figg right away. I actually think Tonks is looking forward to getting news like that from you. I think she's been visiting the Weasley twins..."  
  
However, tonight, the heavy gray sky above Privet Drive was owl free and even Hedwig had opted to cut short her nighttime roving and return to Harry's window before the rain.  
  
So, as Harry watched the sky, he thought about Lupin's reminder. Surprisingly, the Dursleys had taken the threats of the older wizards rather well. There hadn't been any discussion of what was said at King's Cross. Harry had expected Uncle Vernon to have something to say - he generally had - but instead, he chose to ignore Harry altogether. Looking back, Harry couldn't remember a single word from Vernon Dursley directed at him all summer. This suited Harry rather well. Dudley, Harry's porky and brutish cousin, had mercifully copied his father's behavior toward Harry to the letter. Aunt Petunia, on the other hand, had surprised him a good deal. True, she rarely spoke to Harry at all, but when she did, her tone was no worse than civil disinterest. In fact, there had been a few times, when Vernon and Dudley hadn't been around, when her voice warmed to near amiability and once, she nearly smiled. This last, most shocking, occurrence had been just before dawn about two weeks into summer holidays. Harry had been sitting, as usual, at his open window and had fallen asleep, his head resting on the sill. He started awake when he heard a slight movement behind him. He jerked upright and stared in bleary surprise at his Aunt Petunia. She almost never entered Harry's room so it was something of a shock.  
  
"I, er, thought I felt a draft and figured you must have left your window open wide all night again," Aunt Petunia said, uncomfortably.  
  
Harry stared dumbly and she went on, a little sharper this time.  
  
"See that you at least close the screens each night. I won't have bugs buzzing about while we're trying to sleep."  
  
She turned on her heel and marched to the door, pausing slightly as she drew the door shut behind her. "Try to get some sleep in a proper bed, Boy..." The door clicked shut and she was gone.  
  
Harry didn't move - just sat looking in wonder after his aunt. Even now, nearly a fortnight later, he wasn't sure what he'd seen as he opened his eyes. When he started awake that morning, he thought he'd seen Aunt Petunia smiling as she watched him sleep.  
  
Well, Harry reflected, as he watched the first drops of rain spatter on the walk below, it hasn't been so bad, really. Still, I hope someone can convince Dumbledore to get me out of here, soon.  
  
Harry was anxious to be in the wizarding world again, to see something of what was going on. He had given up his subscription to The Daily Prophet in disgust nearly a year before and didn't see the point in resuming delivery this summer. It wasn't as though what they printed was trustworthy and anyway, the owls only irritated Uncle Vernon.  
  
The rain was really coming down now and with it, the wind had risen again. Vivid forks of lightning showed flashes of trees bent nearly to breaking by the wind and rain. Harry reached up to lower the casement when he saw a shadow detach itself from a large oak and slip over to a clump of holly at the end of the drive. Harry blinked and leaned out a bit to get a better look, but only succeeded in getting his head and shoulders wet from the dripping eaves. Another flash of lightning showed the shadow moving, not so easily this time, right toward the front door of Number 4. Harry yanked the window closed, grabbed his wand from the bedside table and ran from his room.  
  
He was already halfway down the stairs when the doorbell shrilled through the house. Bounding down the last few steps and fairly leaping across the foyer, he pressed his face to the door, staring out the peephole. He saw only a huddle of rain soaked cloth, half leaning on the porch rail. Wand drawn, Harry cautiously reached for the doorknob, hoping to get a bit of a jump on the figure outside. Just as he turned the handle, a loud clatter on the stairs behind him, followed by a hoarse shout, informed Harry that Uncle Vernon was up and wasn't happy.  
  
"You, Boy! What in blazes do you think your doing? Was that the door? What imbecile would go about ringing bells at this hour?" he grunted as he reached past Harry and flung the door wide.  
  
Uncle Vernon's angry tirade at the "worthless intruder" was cut short s the sodden figure stumbled toward his nephew, gasping, "Order... Lupin... need Remus..." and collapsed in Harry's arms.  
  
Harry stood, stunned, staring at the figure in his arms. But after three heartbeats of amazed immobility, he leaned slightly to look out the door for any sign of other figures. He could see nothing through the sheets of rain.  
  
Harry then turned his attention to the person hanging limply in his grip. In the dim light of the entry, he could see it was a woman, probably not much older than the oldest Weasley son, Bill. The woman had masses of dark hair which spilled wildly from under the drenched cloak hood. She was very pale with her eyes nearly closed and her jaw slack. Then, Harry noticed the vicious-looking wound showing through the torn neck and shoulder of her black clothing. Her shoulder and neck looked cut, burned and hexed all at once. Seeing this, Harry's mouth went dry.  
  
A frightened gasp caused Harry and Uncle Vernon to turn toward the staircase. Aunt Petunia stood a few steps up, taking in the sight of the injured woman. The sight of his wife's shocked face restored some of the bluster to Harry's uncle.  
  
"Wh, what are you about, Boy, bringing a common hobo into this house? One of your freak friends, I suppose?" he growled.  
  
Harry began to retort that he wasn't the one who'd opened the door without so much as a glance out the peephole, when Aunt Petunia's voice stopped him.  
  
"Well, you can't leave her there, probably bleeding to death. Harry, carry her up to your room and lay her down. Then, you'll figure out what to do."  
  
Later, Harry thought back and felt he should have collapsed from shock, himself, but at the moment, he could only wordlessly obey.  
  
Harry had grown quite a bit over the past year, but, he realized, even if he had not, he still wouldn't have found carrying the woman upstairs an impossible chore. She was a small woman, perhaps only a few inches over five feet tall, and slender. Lifting her, Harry inexplicably thought of carrying Hedwig.  
  
Reaching his room, Harry laid the woman on the bed gently as his aunt followed him in carrying a towel and a blanket.  
  
"Harry," she said, crisply, "I want you to do whatever it is you do to contact your, er, friends." As she spoke she drew off the woman's tattered and soaking cloak, covered her with the blanket and began toweling off the wild, wet mane of hair.  
  
"I'm not going to let her suffer from those injuries - whatever did that..." her voice quavered, but recovered, "but I won't have her here longer than absolutely necessary. You can just see she's trouble."  
  
Having finished her ministrations and said her piece, Aunt Petunia left the room, beckoning for a stunned and speechless Uncle Vernon to follow. A moment later, Harry heard their bedroom door click shut. He was left alone, hearing only the rain, and, amazingly, his cousin's snores. Dudley hadn't even stirred.  
  
Harry was definitely faced with a problem. The only way he knew to reach Remus Lupin was by way of one of the specially charmed owls with which Dumbledore had supplied the Order. Hedwig, if she could find Lupin, wasn't safe enough for the purpose (Harry hadn't forgotten how Hedwig had been injured just months before) and Harry had no other owl at the Dursleys just then. Of course, on a night like this, sending any owl out would surely bring the wizarding equivalent of the SPCA or something, and he felt he really couldn't blame them. So, what to do? Then, it came to him - Mrs. Figg! Lupin had told him to contact her if something went wrong at the Dursleys. Well, this wasn't quite what he had meant, but Harry felt it was all very wrong, indeed.  
  
It was only the previous summer that Harry had learned his cranky, cat-loving sitter was really a guard placed by Dumbledore himself to keep an eye on Harry. Mrs. Figg was a squib - a non-magic person from a wizarding family - but she'd certainly have a way to reach Remus Lupin and the rest of the Order. And Harry knew just how to reach Mrs. Figg.  
  
Harry threw a quick glance at the unconscious woman on the bed and stepped into the hall. He hurried to the small table at the head of the stairs and picked up the telephone. It was a horrible time of night to be phoning anyone, but he knew Mrs. Figg would understand once he'd told his story. He expected a groggy response, but instead, the greeting from the other end of the line was wide awake and anxious.  
  
"Er, Mrs. Figg, this is Harry Potter, " he began, "I'm awfully sorry to.."  
  
"Harry!" exclaimed Mrs. Figg, cutting short his apology, "Thank goodness! I've been so worried. Look, just sit tight. The Order is on the way."  
  
There was a clatter of a receiver being slammed down followed by the buzz of an empty line. Mrs. Figg had known something was happening, but how? And, wondered Harry, what in the world do I do now?  
  
Nothing useful came immediately to mind, so Harry went back to his room. He reasoned that someone ought to keep an eye on the stranger in case she woke up. Still, he wasn't keen on being alone with an unknown witch - if she was a witch. He didn't even know that.  
  
Just as Harry reached his bedroom door, the threshing of the doorbell brought him round again to face the stairs. He ran down the steps, wand in hand, and peered once again through the peephole. Relief swept over Harry in a rush as he beheld lime green spiked hair which could only be Nymphadora Tonks. Her companions shifted slightly and Harry saw top-hatted Dedalus Diggle. Then, the faint light caught the third visitor's face and Harry's relief turned to joy. It was Remus Lupin. In one quick motion, he had the door open and yanked Tonks, Diggle and Lupin into the house.  
  
"I'm so glad to see you lot. Weirdest thing has happened, " Harry exclaimed, "Hey, how did you know to come, anyway?"  
  
"Slow down and take it easy," Lupin cautioned. "Suppose you tell us what happened."  
  
So, Harry recounted all that had led up to their arrival, including the non-conversation with Mrs. Figg.  
  
"Oh, brilliant, Harry, to think of a telephone," Tonks beamed at him. "Haven't seen one in years! My dad used to have a blue princess model..."  
  
"Another time, Tonks," said Lupin, looking puzzled. "Dedalus, perhaps you could go check on our guard. I could do with knowing how this woman got here without so much as a murmur from Hestia Jones. It's not like her to miss anything on her watch."  
  
Diggle, who had been grinning delightedly at seeing Harry again, suddenly sobered. He turned back to the door.  
  
"I'll find her, Remus, but I may need a bit of time. Give me, say, twenty minutes. I'll bring Hestia back here or, at least, check in." With a flick of his top hat, he went out, shutting the door carefully behind him.  
  
"Right," said Lupin, turning to Harry, "I think you'd better take us up to see the mystery woman you've been keeping in your bedroom."  
  
Harry frowned and Tonks snorted with suppressed giggles, but Lupin merely gestured them toward the stairs, one corner of his mouth lifted slightly. With one last disgruntled look, Harry led them up to his room.  
  
"Tonks," Lupin spoke up, "you're better with first aid charms than I am. Maybe, you'd better look her over and get her ready to be moved."  
  
Tonks nodded and moved past Harry into the room. It took only a moment, even in that dim light, for her to see the strangers injuries. With a gasp and murmured, "This will take a bit," she dropped to her knees beside the bed. Harry turned on a small bedside lamp and retreated to the foot of the bed. Lupin, after a quick glance around the room, joined him and looked down at the unconscious woman.  
  
As Tonks turned the patient's head to better reach the wounded neck and shoulder, the light shone full on the woman's face making it completely visible for the first time. Lupin's eyes opened wide, his jaw dropped and the blood drained from his face. Harry turned to him to ask some questions, but they were forgotten when he saw Lupin's face.  
  
"What is it, Professor Lupin," Harry asked, his voice tight with surprise, fingers tightening on the bedpost, "do... do you know her?"  
  
"I... thought so... for a moment," Lupin answered, shaking his head. "but it can't be. She looks very much like someone I once knew, but she died... she was killed in a raid to round up Death Eaters nearly 15 years ago, right after Sirius..."  
  
He swallowed convulsively and closed his eyes. After a deep breath, he opened his eyes again and moved to stand next to Tonks, avoiding Harry's eye.  
  
"Merlin's beard," breathed Lupin, looking over Tonks' shoulder as she knelt over the woman. "She does look like Annwyl."  
  
"Who's Annwyl?" the other two demanded in unison.  
  
Lupin shot them each a look of surprise, then nodded with understanding.  
  
"Right, you'd both be too young to know her. Annwyl King was a member of the Order. She had just finished training and was the youngest auror in Ministry history. She was killed in a raid rounding up the remaining Voldemort supporters," Lupin said, his eyes still on the woman. "It's just amazing how much this woman looks like her."  
  
"Well," Tonks spoke up, "I've done what I can to stabilize her and she's coming round. You could ask her if you'd like."  
  
Tonks rose and stepped back to stand beside Harry. She flashed him a compassionate smile and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Alright, Harry?" she questioned lightly, "Bugger of a night for you."  
  
Harry only nodded in reply and kept his eyes fixed on Lupin who had taken Tonks' place, kneeling beside the woman. After taking a close look at her injuries, Lupin seemed to be examining her face. Then, he gently lifted the woman's right arm, pushing up the sleeve of her black shirt to bare her wrist. Harry could see a long, thin scar running in an arc from the inner wrist to the outer forearm. Lupin eased the sleeve back into place and released her hand. The motion caused her to stir, her eyelids fluttering slightly.  
  
"Hullo there," spoke Lupin softly, causing the woman's eyes to open at last. "I don't suppose you could tell us who you are or how you happened to be here."  
  
The woman's eyes were unfocused and Harry could tell it was an effort for her to keep them open at all. So, it surprised him when she actually managed a weak answer.  
  
"Need to reach the Order...Remus...know what to do...Harry...Remus..." she spoke wearily as her eyes began to drift shut again.  
  
"What is your name?" Lupin pressed her, wanting to glean something before she lost consciousness again.  
  
The eyes pulled open once more, but with only a slight indication of understanding. Her strangled voice spoke as if from rote.  
  
"King, Annwyl, Lieutenant," she rasped, "auror, third grade. I.D. number 37853."  
  
Lupin came to his feet, backing away from the woman who was again unconscious. He stared thoughtfully first at her, then at Tonks and Harry. His mouth opened as if to speak, but shut again, as if he'd thought better of it. He inched back toward the wall, staring as if he expected the woman to suddenly pop to her feet, declaring this all an elaborate ruse.  
  
"Wyl? How on earth..." Lupin breathed, still shaking his head in disbelief.  
  
The sound of the front door opening and closing brought all three of them from their stunned state. Dedalus Diggle appeared in the doorway, his face ashen and his hands shaking. Lupin, Tonks and Harry looked at him questioningly.  
  
"I've found her, but... well, you'd better come see," quavered Diggle, "I've never seen anything like it."  
  
"I'll come, Dedalus," said Tonks, moving toward the bedroom door. "Is she badly hurt?"  
  
Diggle put out a hand to stop her, but avoided her eye.  
  
"It's too late for your healing charms, Tonks. She's dead," he said, heavily. With a glance at the bed, he added, "I'd say whatever did that to her, got to Hestia as well."  
  
Lupin's face went slack with shock, his eyes unreadable. Tonks wavered slightly and Harry could see her begin to shake.  
  
"I'll come," Tonks said again, sadly. She nodded in the direction of her patient. "Remus, I've stabilized her for now, but she really needs Poppy."  
  
"Alright, we'll wind things up here," answered Lupin. "You two stay and scout around. Oh, and keep an eye on the Dursleys. You never know. I'll send back reinforcements as quickly as possible."  
  
With acknowledging nods to Lupin and what were meant to be encouraging smiles to Harry, Diggle and Tonks turned to go. As she reached the head of the stairs, Tonks turned back and called softly,  
  
"Remus, she's going to be in a lot of pain when you move her. Maybe, well, I think you'd better stun her for the trip."  
  
As the front door closed behind Tonks and Diggle, Lupin looked over at Harry.  
  
"Well, time to get moving. Pack a rucksack or book bag or something with just what you'll need for a day or two and bring Hedwig. Bung the rest into your trunk. Someone will bring it along later. I need to leave a note for the Dursleys."  
  
Lupin sat down at Harry's desk and helped himself to the quill, ink and parchment lying there. Harry just stood in the middle of the room, looking as if he wasn't quite grasping what was going on, which, in fact, he wasn't. Lupin looked up from his writing in mild surprise.  
  
"Harry, we've really got to get moving. I've got to get in touch with Madame Pomfrey and I can't do that from here."  
  
"So, I'm going too?" questioned Harry, finding his voice at last.  
  
"Of course, Harry. There hasn't really been time to explain, but there's been some dark activity tonight," Lupin gestured toward the bed, "as you may have guessed. So, for the moment anyway, the safest place for you is at headquarters."  
  
For a fleeting instant, Harry considered pushing for the whole story right away. However, the sight of the injured woman on the bed and the drawn, gray face of Remus Lupin made him think better of that. Wordlessly, he began loading books into his trunk. After a few minutes, though, he did hazard a question.  
  
"Professor Lupin, you said Annwyl King was dead. How did she turn up, alive, and on Privet Drive?"  
  
"I'm not your professor anymore Harry, so I think it had better be Remus and that seems to be the 60,000 pound question of the day. Look, the sooner you pack, the sooner we can get out of here. This is all a long story which I would feel a lot better about telling once I've got you safely at headquarters. You hurry with your things and I'll leave this where the Dursleys will find it."  
  
Remus left the room to find a visible place for his letter and Harry was left alone with the woman who claimed to be a deceased auror and member of Dumbledore's own Order. As he crammed his cauldron and the last of his books into his trunk and began filling his book bag with what he would need for a day or two, Harry speculated about her.  
  
If she really was Annwyl King, what had happened? Who had been killed in her place? Where had she been all these years and why hadn't she been in contact with anyone in the Order? How could she be dead and yet, turn up at the door of the Dursleys' home, of all places? Was there an explanation of all this that could show her to be a loyal member of the Order? Harry was having a hard time imagining what that could be. So, why had she come? The same question could be asked even if she wasn't Annwyl. Where had she come from and why was she here?  
  
Harry finished his packing and closed his trunk. He looked around his room in disbelief. He was leaving and July wasn't even quite over yet. He had more than a month of holidays still, but he wasn't going to have to spend it with the Dursleys, waiting and wondering what was happening. No, he'd be spending that time at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Harry knew from experience that he wouldn't be in on much of what went on, but there was no doubt he would hear more than he was getting on Privet Drive.  
  
And, thought Harry grimly, this time around I intend to get some answers when I ask what's going on. I'll not just be tucked away in some back room and be quiet 'like a good child.'  
  
Child no longer. Harry would be sixteen in just two days - tomorrow, actually, he realized with a glance at the clock - and just a month ago, he'd been learned of the prophecy that had set him apart from the outset. The ultimate defeat of Voldemort was, quite literally, in his hands...  
  
A stirring from the bed and the sound of Remus' footsteps on the stairs mercifully shattered Harry train of thought. He sighed and hefted his bag over his shoulder and reached for Hedwig's cage as Remus re-entered the room. Remus noted Harry's face.  
  
"Harry, I..." he began, his eyes dark with worry, "I know this has all been hard. Maybe, having you close by for a bit and all... maybe we'll have time for some talk, yeah? I feel as if maybe we both need it."  
  
Gratitude and sullen sorrow fought for dominance in Harry's eyes. Gratitude won out after a moment's hesitation. He nodded acknowledgment, not trusting his voice to answer.  
  
Clearing his throat, Remus turned back to the now semiconscious woman on the bed.  
  
"I guess Tonks was right," he said, gesturing toward the fitful patient, "though I do hate to stun someone who is unarmed. Well, better that than leaving her in pain. Stupefy!"  
  
Harry winced as the thin jet of red light hit her in the abdomen. Her fretful stirrings ceased and she lay, huddled in the blanket, looking, Harry had to admit, quite a bit more restful.  
  
Remus drew an ordinary wooden ruler, such as a child might carry in a pencil box, from a pocket of his cloak.  
  
"Portkey," he explained, seeing the question on Harry's face. "Since Fudge has to admit, publicly, that he was wrong about Voldemort, he's been very reluctant to interfere with anything Dumbledore wants to do. That means a few luxuries for the Order, such as the safe owls and some emergency portkeys."  
  
Remus bent and gently lifted the woman from the bed. With her supported in his arms, he held the ruler pointed toward Harry. Obeying a gesture from Remus, Harry stretched out his hand and touched the proferred ruler. As his hand made contact, Harry felt the tug at his navel and his bedroom on Privet Drive was whisked from sight. 


	2. The Resurrection of the Auror

HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND  
  
Chapter 2: The Auror's Resurrection -  
  
Harry stumbled a bit as he arrived and landed heavily on his knees. Hedwig's cage came to the floor beside him with a thump, drawing an indignant hoot from the now rather ruffled owl.  
  
"Sorry Hedwig, " murmured Harry, "OOF!"  
  
Remus was struggling with balancing the weight of two people and the task of landing upright. After a few swaying steps, he staggered into Harry, leaning against him for support as he regained his equilibrium.  
  
"Ungh... sorry, Harry," he gasped.  
  
The sound of someone hurrying into the room made Harry turn, but he quickly relaxed as he saw tall, red-haired Arthur Weasley.  
  
"Remus! Harry!" he exclaimed, "Where are Tonks and Diggle? Who's that?"  
  
Mr. Weasley stepped forward quickly to help Remus steady himself and the stunned woman.  
  
"Explanations in a moment, Arthur," answered Remus, "but first, I've got to get her into a room and send for Poppy Pomfrey."  
  
Motioning Harry to stay where he was, Remus and Mr. Weasley carried the limp woman out of the room. Harry then took the opportunity to see what sort of room he was in. He was in one corner of a very large kitchen. It had a flagstone floor and a low ceiling. The beams were dark with age and candle smoke. Dominating one wall was the one of the largest fireplaces Harry had ever seen. It was easily large enough to roast an ox and the firebox had so many iron pot hooks, cranes, and the like, it looked like some strange, inverted porcupine.  
  
Though the architecture of the room showed it to be rather old, there were modern looking appliances and a huge sink ranged along two other walls. Harry guessed they were magical as he saw no electrical outlets in the room. There was a large window above the sink. There were doors in the remaining wall. One appeared to close off a pantry, another looked as if it must open into a dooryard or garden and the third was the door through which Remus and Mr. Weasley had disappeared.  
  
Harry placed Hedwig's cage on a small table by the pantry door and his bag on the floor next to it. Then, he took a seat near the fire at the biggest wooden table he had ever seen outside the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Lack of sleep and the odd events of the last hour were taking their toll on Harry. He sat gazing into the flames, relaxing in their warmth, thinking and feeling nothing. So, when Remus and Mr. Weasley returned, Harry jumped in shock.  
  
"Oh, Harry," said Mr. Weasley apologetically, "didn't mean to give you a wobbly. You must be dead tired, but I'm afraid the night's not over yet. Fancy a bit of a nosh before we carry on?"  
  
Mr. Weasley busied himself at a counter and the ice box as Remus tossed a handful of powder into the fire and leaned in. Harry heard him urging Madame Pomfrey to come straight away and then ask Professor McGonagall to send the headmaster as soon as could be arranged. However, it was all rather vague and other-worldly as Harry edged closer to sleep.  
  
"Uh oh," exclaimed Remus, pulling out of the fire and seeing Harry nearly asleep, "Harry, wake up. Dumbledore will be here soon and he'll be wanting to talk with us all. Besides, you had some questions for me, as I recall."  
  
The thought of any sort of talk from Dumbledore was enough for Harry to rouse himself and attempt to focus again on what was passing.  
  
"Here we are, lads," said Mr. Weasley, cheerfully, as he levitated a tray of sandwiches and another tray bearing mugs of steaming, inky black coffee to the table. "I can't hold a candle to Molly, of course, but it'll be edible and the coffee is hot and strong, anyway, so tuck in!"  
  
"Ahh, " sighed Remus, following Mr. Weasley's advice, "Arthur, I owe you something for this. That coffee smells wonderful. Harry, suppose you fill Arthur in."  
  
So, Harry recounted the events of the evening. When he had finished, there was a silence for moment while Remus conjured another cup of coffee for himself, refilled Mr. Weasley's mug, and pushed one over toward Harry.  
  
"Drink up, Harry," said Remus as a knock sounded at the door. "I'll get that, it'll be Poppy."  
  
And, indeed, it was Madame Pomfrey who came bustling in the door, levitating a trunk of supplies in front of her. With a friendly nod to Harry and Mr. Weasley, she followed Remus through the kitchen to her patient. Remus returned almost immediately and sat down again at the table, saying,  
  
"Poppy will need some time, but she should have something to report by the time Albus gets here."  
  
"Um, Pr.. er, Remus," said Harry, "could you tell me how you all happened to know you were needed at the Dursleys tonight? Even Mrs. Figg knew."  
  
Mr. Weasley hemmed a bit, but Remus shook his head.  
  
"I know how Molly feels, Arthur, but there are some things he should know," Remus said. "Harry, how much do you know about the protection you have at the Dursleys?"  
  
"I know Professor Dumbledore based it on my mum sacrificing her life for me," Harry answered, staring fixedly at his hands spread flat on the table top. "Nothing more."  
  
"Well, Harry," said Remus, "while that is the core of your protection, there are other spells, ward charms, at work. Mrs. Figg monitors them with the help of her kneazles."  
  
"Oh," said Harry, comprehension dawning, " all this time, I thought they were just cats."  
  
"No, highly reliable kneazles, Harry," Mr. Weasley broke in, "and they are very helpful in watching the barriers. However, the ward charms, themselves, help with that, as well. You see, in addition to an anti- apparition ward, and simple barrier wards, there is a ward set to sound an alarm when a magic person crosses the barrier. It is set to recognize you, of course, but anyone else will trigger it. It was tripped tonight."  
  
"So," asked Harry, "what if Voldemort sent a squib or a muggle after me?"  
  
"Mrs. Figg has a clock hidden away at her house, " smiled Mr. Weasley, delightedly. "It monitors you and the Dursleys in much the same way as the clock at the Burrow. If anything was amiss with you or any of the Dursleys, your hand on that clock would show us."  
  
"So, that means this woman, Annwyl, is a witch," noted Harry.  
  
"So it would seem..." Remus answered.  
  
At that moment, Madame Pomfrey re-entered the kitchen. Her face looked worn and worried as she sat down across from Harry. She glanced briefly at the three of them, but then looked down as if reluctant to speak. After a moments tense silence, she ventured,  
  
"Will the headmaster be here soon?"  
  
"We hope so, Poppy, " Remus answered, "but it has been a busy night. He'll come as soon as he can. What is it? Is she really Annwyl King?"  
  
Madame Pomfrey just looked at Remus for a moment, then turned away to stare into the fire as she spoke.  
  
"She is, indeed, Annwyl King," she began. "All the evidence matches and polyjuice would have worn off by now. Where she has been all these years, of course, I haven't any idea. But as surprising as it is to see here alive again, her injuries are even more shocking." She paused, took a deep breath, and continued.  
  
"Despite the appearance of burns, the only tissue damage is cutting and tearing, made complicated by residual magic in the wound, a magical energy signal, if you will."  
  
"But, what can inflict that sort of injury," questioned Mr. Weasley.  
  
Madame Pomfrey lifted her gaze from the fire, but instead of turning to Mr. Weasley to answer, she fixed her eyes on Remus.  
  
"The wounds appear to be consistent with a werewolf attack."  
  
Mr. Weasley coughed and choked on his coffee and Harry felt his jaw working up and down in disbelief. Remus simply stared, unblinking, at Madame Pomfrey, his face ashen, features unmoving.  
  
"Buh...but, " spluttered Harry, at last, "that isn't possible, is it? Tonight's not a full moon. Remus isn't..." He stopped, not knowing how to continue.  
  
"I know, Potter, I know, " Madame Pomfrey agreed. "I didn't say it was a werewolf bite because, of course, how could it be? The moon isn't full for another week. I'm simply saying it resembles the injury one would expect from such an attack."  
  
The four sat silent for a moment, no one being quite sure what to say next. Then, Remus stood up so abruptly, Harry jumped in his chair. Remus said nothing and looked at no one, but headed straight toward the outside door.  
  
"Remus, " Madame Pomfrey called after him, "you should know that it isn't a werewolf bite. The magical signature is fading as she heals. There will be no lasting effects."  
  
Remus had paused at the door, but did not turn. He listened, but when she had finished, he left the house without a word. Mr. Weasley rose as if to follow, but Madame Pomfrey laid a restraining hand on his arm.  
  
"Let him go, Arthur," she said quietly. "I think he has some of his memories to face down just now and that's best done on one's own."  
  
"Will she really be alright then," Harry asked, as Mr. Weasley sat down again.  
  
"Certainly, but she'll need rest and care. Arthur, Molly's terribly clever maintaining healing charms. Do you think she'd come?"  
  
"I'll owl her right away, " Mr. Weasley answered. "I expect she'll need a bit of time to mobilize, but I believe she could be here by mid- day."  
  
Mr. Weasley had just conjured a quill, ink, and parchment and the two had begun composing a note to Mrs. Weasley, when the door opened, admitting Albus Dumbledore. Harry was on his feet before he realized he had moved. The expression on the headmaster's face was anxious and, Harry wasn't sure, but he thought he detected fear in the old, blue eyes.  
  
"Arthur, Harry," Dumbledore nodded them a distracted greeting. "Poppy, thank you for coming. We seem determined to have you caught up in our work, despite our attempts to keep you safely out of it all. I have just had a word with Remus in the garden. He seemed quite distraught - said something about Annwyl and a werewolf bite..."  
  
"Now, " she answered soothingly, "I know it's a bit of a shock, but it really is Annwyl."  
  
"What is this about a werewolf bite, then," Dumbledore pressed.  
  
Madame Pomfrey and Mr. Weasley rose from the table and flanked Dumbledore as she spoke,  
  
"Her injuries do bear an extraordinary resemblance, but she's mending nicely. Come, see for yourself..."  
  
The three exited the kitchen, heading into the house to where Remus and Mr. Weasley had taken the patient when they arrived. Harry followed, although he wasn't entirely sure why. Something about seeing Dumbledore in such distress worked on him strangely and he found himself following along, unbidden. Harry noticed nothing of his surroundings, seeing only the three before him and hearing only the quiet murmurs of encouragement issuing from Madame Pomfrey.  
  
They entered a small, dimly lit bedroom - that is, all but Harry, who remained in the doorway, watching silently. Annwyl King was in the bed, looking, Harry noticed, much better than she had in his room on Privet Drive. For one thing, she was dry now, her long, dark brown hair spread across the pillow in wild, glossy curls. Her sodden, torn clothes had been replaced with soft, white hospital pajamas and her shoulder and neck were neatly bandaged. She was sleeping so peacefully, Harry was certain Annwyl must have been given a powerful pain potion.  
  
Professor Dumbledore stood over the bed a moment, then sat down heavily on a small stool near the head. Harry felt his eyes prickle as he watched his headmaster lift the woman's pale, limp hand and hold it against his cheek, whispering,  
  
"Oh Annie... my little Annwyl..."  
  
Harry backed away, feeling almost guilty for having witnessed such a scene. He turned quickly and made his way back to the kitchen, his stomach clenching at the memory of the pain in Dumbledore's voice - pain that had not been there when Sirius died...  
  
That last thought was like a bucket of icy water thrown on him. Stunned and disgusted with himself, Harry threw himself down onto a chair and, resting his elbows on the table, pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.  
  
No, not that, he told himself firmly, if I start to think like that, I'll go mad...  
  
A slight movement in the shadowy corner raised Harry's head with a snap. Mad Eye Moody shuffled forward and sat down across from Harry.  
  
"The bugger never seems to give us a break, does he, Potter. I understand you've had yourself quite an evening."  
  
Before he could respond, Harry heard footsteps behind him and he looked up into Mr. Weasley's sympathetic face.  
  
"I expect you're about knackered, Harry," he said kindly. Looking around, he added, "I see Remus hasn't come in yet..." He sighed and took a chair beside Harry.  
  
"Mr. Weasley," Harry said, quietly, "who is Annwyl King? Remus said she was a member of the Order and the youngest auror ever and you all thought she was dead, but there must be more than that. I've never seen Professor Dumbledore so..." he trailed off uncomfortably.  
  
Mr. Weasley looked at Harry for a moment as if making up his mind about something. After a bit, he nodded, answering, perhaps that is a question better asked of Alastor, here. As an original member of the Order, I think he can give you the whole story."  
  
The weather-beaten old auror nodded slowly. After a moment's thought, he began.  
  
"Yes, well, as far as it goes, what Remus told you is all true. Annwyl was a brilliant auror, despite being nothing but a pup, and a real asset to the Order for the very short time she had been with us. But there is more. As I'm sure you noticed, she and your headmaster were... are very close.  
  
"Annwyl is the only child of John and Gretchen King. Gretchen was the granddaughter of Eliphalet Scarrenhalt, an old friend of Albus' who was killed, fighting along side Dumbledore in the final battle against Grindlewald. In fact, it is said that killing Eliphalet was Grindlewald's last act... Well, and so, Albus remained close to the family. When Gretchen married John King - a muggle, by the way, but quite a fellow for all that, Albus walked her down the aisle. Then, when John and Gretchen's daughter was born two years later, they invited Albus to name her. Annwyl was his own mother's name. It's Welsh, I believe... means "darling" or some such. Albus was wild over that child. He was also named her godfather."  
  
At this, Harry looked away from Moody, his throat tight. Did Sirius have anything to do with naming me? I may never know.  
  
"Then, Voldemort appeared," Moody went on, "and Albus was fighting again. This time, Gretchen was at his side. Early on in Voldemort's first war for power, when Annwyl was about ten, her family was attacked. The fact that Gretchen had married a muggle was enough for the Death Eaters, but they had learned she was working for Albus and that made them very keen. Somehow or other, Albus was tipped off and hurried to the Kings' home to warn them. Unfortunately, he was too late. When he arrived the attack was in progress. John was already dead, but Gretchen and her father, who was visiting were fighting. Albus fought as well, but in the end..."  
  
Moody paused, giving Harry a shrewd look.  
  
"In the end, " he resumed, "it was only Albus and Annwyl. As her guardian, he took her back to Hogwarts to live, seeing as she was to start school the next year, anyway."  
  
"And then, he thought she was killed by Death Eaters, too," Harry asked, horrified.  
  
"Yes, " Moody growled. "Bloody awful business. I've never seen Albus so overcome. The whole family - four generations... gone... I imagine he's in a right state now."  
  
"Professor Moody," Harry said, "Last year, you showed me an old photo of the original Order of the Phoenix. Why wasn't Annwyl in that picture?"  
  
"Wyl was still in auror training when that photo was taken. Because of her abilities, the usual three year course was waived for her, but she still spent about a year at the training facility. She wasn't always at liberty to leave," he answered.  
  
The three sat in silence for a moment and then Mr. Weasley spoke.  
  
"Look, Harry, in light of Annwyl's injuries, we are going to have to revise our opinions of what went on at the Durselys'. That means our planned briefing will have to be pretty well scrapped until we know more. Why don't you get some sleep. Take the first bedroom on the left when you reach the hallway. Poppy Pomfrey or no Poppy Pomfrey, I'm going to check on Remus."  
  
"Mr. Weasley, what will this attack mean for Remus?"  
  
Mr. Weasley stopped, hand on the doorknob, and weary look on his face.  
  
"In what way, Harry," he asked, looking as though he dreaded the whole subject.  
  
"I mean, " Harry answered, "if Voldemort - and this has got something to do with him, right? - can make it look like werewolves can attack at anytime, won't that make it even harder for people like Remus? Won't they be persecuted more than ever?"  
  
"I don't know that, Harry," replied Mr. Weasley, his shoulders drooping, "but I fear so." He turned and went outside without another word.  
  
Harry's head was spinning with fatigue as he gathered his things and made his way to the room Mr. Weasley had assigned him. Setting Hedwig's cage on the deal dresser and his bag on the floor by the bed, Harry flopped onto the bed with a sigh  
  
Now, if only I could sleep and not dream, he thought.  
  
A voice from the doorway made him sit up quickly. It was Madame Pomfrey carrying a cup of potion which smoked slightly.  
  
"Dreamless sleep, Potter, and no arguments."  
  
Harry obeyed.  
  
* * *  
  
A sound of movement in the room, and Harry shot upright in bed with a hoarse cry, yanking his wand from under his pillow and groping for his glasses. Another sound, loud this time, and Harry slammed his glasses on and peered around wildly, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the window.  
  
"Oi! Harry, put that wand down! You scared me half to death popping up like that."  
  
Harry recognized Ron Weasley's voice in an instant. Ron, he thought,  
  
flopping back onto his pillow, thank goodness. I'm gonna kill him...  
  
"I scared you? Ron, it's great to see you, mate, but what are you doing sneaking around like that?" Harry sat up again, swinging his legs over the  
  
side of the bed, glaring at his friend in mock severity.  
  
"I was just bringing my stuff in," Ron answered, grinning. "Mum, Ginny and I just got here. Didn't know you were taking a page from Moody's book. Looked like you were ready to hex anything that moved."  
  
"Yeah, well, next time I'll just enchant the dust bins and maybe I'll be able to sleep in peace," Harry laughed.  
  
"What happened around here last night, Harry?" Ron asked, sobering. "Mum tossed us out of bed at an awful hour this morning, but you could tell she'd been up for hours before that. She'd packed all our stuff - dunno how I slept through that - and had even packed a trunk of healing potions and talismans. She hasn't had that lot out since the twins started Hogwarts."  
  
Harry leaned down to pull a t-shirt and jeans from his bag. Avoiding Ron's gaze, he tried changing the subject.  
  
"You just got here? What time is it anyway?"  
  
"It's nearly noon," Ron frowned, "Come on, Harry, you can't not tell me."  
  
"Look," sighed Harry, relenting, "I'll not sure how much I even know. I'll tell you everything, for whatever that's worth, but not until after I've eaten. I'm famished."  
  
Tying his last shoelace, Harry rose and made for the door. Ron shrugged and followed him from the room.  
  
As Harry walked through the house toward the kitchen, he took his first real look at the Order's new headquarters. Unlike Sirius' house in Grimmauld Place, this house was wholly unremarkable. It was a farmhouse of  
  
moderate size and non-nondescript design. Harry figured - correctly, as it  
  
happened - that its interior had been magically enhanced in order to accommodate their needs. The decor was steadfastly muggle-style, but in the fashion of about a half century ago. Everything had an air of comfortable wear - not out at heel, but definitely not stiffly new.  
  
The house was brighter, too, and Harry paused at a window near the foot of the stairs (Harry's room was on the ground level, but obviously there were more rooms above) and looked out over a very picturesque rolling meadow. Clearly, they were nowhere near London, or any city, for that matter. They  
  
weren't near Hogwarts, either, as this countryside bore no resemblance at all to the rugged terrain surrounding the school.  
  
Reaching the kitchen, Harry and Ron were met with a delicious, rich smell of a stew bubbling on the stove. Mrs. Weasley was bustling about, busy with lunch preparations.  
  
"Oh, Harry, dear, you're up already," she greeted him pleasantly. "Are you hungry? Do you want eggs and sausage or would you rather have lunch with us all? Stew today."  
  
Harry didn't answer but stood, looking in her direction. In his mind, he was remembering last summer at headquarters, when Mrs. Weasley and Sirius sat in the kitchen, with the homey, wonderful smell of Mrs. Weasley's cooking wrapping them round like a warm blanket, arguing over him. It had been painful to watch at the time, but now, the memory was threatening to crush him altogether.  
  
"Harry?" Mrs. Weasley looked at him worriedly. "Are you alright, dear?"  
  
Harry shook himself, breaking free of the unpleasant memory.  
  
"Sorry, don't think I'm quite awake yet," he answered with a weak smile. "The stew smells terrific, Mrs. Weasley. I'll just wait for that, if you don't mind."  
  
Mrs. Weasley nodded understandingly, but gave Harry a careful look. Harry tried to look pleasantly neutral, but he could see she had not been fooled.  
  
Luckily for him, she seemed to be of a mind to let it pass for the present.  
  
"Right you are, then. There are your Hogwarts letters on the table.  
  
Ginny's is there, too, when she comes in. Why don't you two have a look? Your OWL results should be there."  
  
Harry and Ron looked at one another, blanching. In all the excitement of the twelve hours, Harry had managed to forget his worry over the OWLs. Now, his fears came back to him in a rush.  
  
"Blimey," Ron whispered as they approached the table, "I'd almost rather have one of Mum's howlers right now than open that. At least, a howler is gone in a minute."  
  
"Well," answered Harry quietly, " depending on what that letter says, you may get the howler, too."  
  
With a grimace, Ron sat down, picking up his letter, and Harry followed suit. With a quick glance and nod to the other, each took a deep breath and ripped open his letter. Ron impatiently tossed aside Professor McGonagall's usual welcome screed and eagerly rand down the list of exam results. Harry  
  
gingerly set his letter aside and closed his eyes a moment before looking at his results.  
  
"Ruddy wonderful," Ron breathed in relief, looking over his scores again. "An O, five Es, and two As! Eight in all! More than I bargained for, I can tell you."  
  
Harry opened his eyes at Ron's exclamation of relief. He looked down his list, hardly trusting what he saw. Suddenly, the parchment was whipped out  
  
of his hands.  
  
"Harry, didn't you hear me?" exclaimed Ron, impatiently. "I asked you three times about your scores. Now, let's see..."  
  
Ron spread the two sets of results out side by side and began reading them off.  
  
"Astronomy- An A for each. Well, after what happened that night, I guess they went easy on all of us. Care of Magical Creatures - O for us both! Charms, next - E for me and oh, bravo, Harry! An O! Was that one you needed for auror training? Okay, Defense - E for me and O for you. Well, no surprise there, mate. Let's see, Divination, ugh. That was doomed, anyway. Yep, P for me and, ouch. D. Well, Harry, it's rubbish, anyway. Right, Herbology was okay. E for me again and another O for you, Harry. History... well, an A for me and that's passing anyway. Never could keep all those goblins straight. And you got, oh. Sorry, Harry, you missed that one. Another D. Wait, that was when you fell asleep and..."  
  
Harry looked sharply at Ron and then away. Ron's ears reddened and he mumbled.  
  
"Sorry, Harry. Didn't mean to say anything..."  
  
"Don't worry, Ron. Go on," answered Harry stiffly.  
  
"Um, yeah," Ron agreed. "Well, Potions next. We both got Es. Bugger, Harry. I'm sorry. You needed an O, didn't you?"  
  
Harry nodded glumly. Without an Outstanding in Potions, he wouldn't be able to go on to NEWT level studies. Without that, there would be no auror  
  
training for him.  
  
"Well, you got an E in Transfiguration, Harry," Ron said, encouragingly. "Same as me."  
  
Harry picked up his results and looked them over again. Trying to cheer himself, he thought, Really, with everything else that had been happening to me, seven OWLs isn't so bad. I only sat exams in nine subjects. It certainly could have been worse.  
  
Mrs. Weasley came to the table, then, asking warily, her hand out for their papers.  
  
"Alright, then, you two. Let's be having them."  
  
She skimmed over Ron's quickly and smiled.  
  
"Eight OWLs, Ron. Oh, well done, dear. Your father'll be so pleased. Now, then, Harry,"  
  
She looked down his list, and again, she gave a warm smile.  
  
"Well, Harry, that's wonderful. Seven OWLs and four of them Os! You  
  
should be very pleased, dear."  
  
She beamed on them both for a moment, then turned back to the stove. At that moment, Ginny Weasley entered the kitchen, sniffing appreciatively. She plopped down on a chair next to Ron and looked over his arm at the parchments on the table.  
  
"Oh!" she squealed, "OWL results! Let's see then. How'd you both do?"  
  
Ron and Harry passed over their lists and Ginny skimmed them excitedly.  
  
"Oh, you've both done wonderfully well," she said smiling. "With scores like these, you'll be ready for any NEWT classes you want."  
  
"Not quite," answered Harry, the pleasure he had felt at hearing Mrs.  
  
Weasley's and Ginny's praise disappearing.  
  
Ron gave Ginny a significant look and abruptly changed the subject.  
  
"Mum," he said, turning in his chair, "how much longer until lunch? I'm famished."  
  
"Just a couple of ticks, if you lot will lend a hand," Mrs. Weasley answered, cheerfully.  
  
So, the three rose and helped set the table and lay out the dishes of Mrs. Weasley's fabulous cooking. They were nearly ready when Bill Weasley came in from the garden.  
  
"Oh Bill, good," said Mrs. Weasley, "just in time. Have a seat then,  
  
everyone. We're just a small group today."  
  
The five sat down to do justice to the stew. The Weasleys chatted amiably about the weather and quidditch standings while Harry let the warm, comfortable sensations lap him round. They seemed to understand his silence and kept their conversation light and pleasant, allowing Harry to just be, for a moment. Near the end of the meal, Bill pushed his chair back and sighed.  
  
"Mum, that was excellent, but I'd best finish up for Dumbledore. I'll wake up Remus in a bit and he can take over until Moody comes back for the night. Then, I'll head back to the Burrow. Dad said he'd come straight here after work, so I thought I'd try to beat the twins home."  
  
"Alright," Mrs. Weasley answered, serenely, "No need to worry about us, though. I expect our patient will sleep the rest of the day, so it'll be a  
  
quiet one here. Can I be expecting Albus tomorrow?"  
  
Bill nodded and rose from the table. With a wink to Ginny, Ron and Harry, he went back out through the garden.  
  
The remaining four sat in congenial silence but after a few minutes, Mrs. Weasley spoke up.  
  
"Well, Harry. So what will you have for tomorrow, then?"  
  
Harry simply looked at her, puzzled.  
  
"Your birthday, dear," Mrs. Weasley explained. "I'm afraid it won't seem like much of a party without Hermione, Fred, and George, but it seemed safest for them to stay where they are. So, it'll have to be a small do. What do you fancy for dinner, Harry?"  
  
Harry looked at the three Weasleys in amazement. A birthday party...  
  
Tomorrow, he would turn sixteen and have the first birthday party in his memory. The thought nearly took his breath away.  
  
"Any... anything you make is wonderful," he said at last, smiling and  
  
stammering. "Um, I'll let you choose and it'll be a surprise to me."  
  
"Oh, Mum, let me decorate, please," asked Ginny. "I know just the thing."  
  
Harry wasn't sure he liked the glint in her eye as she said this, but at second look, her face was the picture of innocent anticipation. Harry looked to Ron, but Ron's face was equally innocent.  
  
"That'll be lovely, Ginny," agreed her mother as she levitated the dishes, cutlery, and cookware to the sink. "I'll leave it all to you.  
  
"Now, then," Another wave of her wand set the dishes washing themselves with gentle clinking and splashing noises. "I'm sure you three have plenty  
  
of catching up to do, so I'll leave you to it. I've got to tend to Annwyl."  
  
As Mrs. Weasley bustled out, Ron turned and stared at Harry expectantly.  
  
"Right, then, Harry," he said, "you've eaten, so let's have it. What went on last night?"  
  
So, Harry poured out his story yet again. Ron and Ginny were an exceptional audience, gasping and glaring at all the right moments.  
  
"What I don't get, is why my scar didn't hurt," Harry mused when he had finished. "I mean, it prickled a bit, but it's done that most days since Voldemort came back."  
  
Neither Ron nor Ginny had an answer for him. After a moment, Harry got up the courage to ask something he'd wondered about.  
  
"Um, what happened to Percy? I haven't heard any mention of him. Surely, he's not still mad at your mum and dad, now that Fudge has admitted Voldemort's back?"  
  
Ron's face darkened and Ginny's became expressionless.  
  
"Percy hasn't come back," Ron growled. "It seems the daft bugger has gone completely off his nut. It's like he's blaming Dumbledore and Mum and Dad,  
  
personally, for the fact we are at war, again."  
  
"But that makes no sense," Harry exclaimed, indignantly.  
  
"Never mind," Ginny's voice was cold as steel and cut as sharply. The tone shocked Harry. "Just forget him," she went on, "he doesn't matter anymore."  
  
Harry stared at her and even Ron seemed taken aback. Looking at his sister's set face, Ron changed the subject again.  
  
"So, how can Annwyl be alive if they saw Death Eaters kill her?" he asked.  
  
"Well, no one actually saw her die. They saw a flash of a curse, but never found her body," Ginny answered, matter of factly.  
  
"How'd you know that?" asked Harry in surprise.  
  
"Moody was still hanging about talking about Annwyl with Madame Pomfrey when I helped Mum take her healing things in. I heard him say so." Ginny shrugged.  
  
"So, what did happen?" Ron asked.  
  
The three discussed it a bit longer, but without understanding any more. At last, Ginny suggested they give it up and have a few games of Exploding Snap.  
  
In what seemed, to Harry, a very short time, the afternoon was gone and they were again helping Mrs. Weasley, this time with dinner. Bill had gone  
  
to the Burrow, but Remus was up and about and Mr. Weasley arrived just as Harry and Ron finished setting the table.  
  
Soon, Harry, Remus, and the Weasleys were seated for another of Mrs. Weasley's spectacular meals. Conversation was light at first, but finally,  
  
Harry could ignore it no longer.  
  
"Remus," Harry said, "what do you suppose is going on? What is Voldemort up to?"  
  
Remus shook his head slightly but remained silent. The others fidgeted and hemmed nervously. Finally, Remus answered.  
  
"Mars has been unusually bright."  
  
"Sounds like you've been talking with Firenze," Harry snorted in nervous laughter.  
  
"Yes," Remus nodded, "and I'm beginning to see what he means." He rose and turned to Mrs. Weasley, "Molly, is it alright if I look in on Wyl?"  
  
Mrs. Weasley nodded and he left without another word. No one knew what to make of his strange statement.  
  
After dinner, Ron and Harry settled down to some chess while Ginny and Mr. Weasley had a game of gobstones and Mrs. Weasley knitted. It was the most peaceful evening Harry had had in months and he wondered why he didn't feel  
  
more at ease. Then, he realized. All this safety, but no Sirius...  
  
This distracted Harry so, he lost to Ron even more spectacularly than  
  
usual. After the pieces had been put away, Mrs. Weasley spoke.  
  
"Now, time for bed, you lot. I'll need your help tomorrow to have everything in order for Harry's birthday."  
  
Ron, Ginny and Harry rose to go, but Mrs. Weasley stopped Harry.  
  
"Harry, dear," she said quietly, "may I have a word?"  
  
After bidding her children goodnight, she sat down with Harry. Mr. Weasley excused himself and left the room. This all seemed quite strange to Harry and he began to get nervous.  
  
"Harry, " she began, "I feel I owe you an explanation. I know it is hard for you to talk about it just now, but I can't bear you thinking ill of me."  
  
Harry blinked in surprise. This, he had not been expecting.  
  
"I... I don't..." he stuttered, but Mrs. Weasley held up a silencing hand.  
  
"Please, Harry. I need to say this."  
  
Harry nodded and subsided in wonder.  
  
"I never had a chance to talk to you after that night at the Ministry," she went on. "I never got to tell you how very sorry I am about what happened."  
  
Harry looked away, not able to bear the tears he saw gathering in her eyes. It was all he could do to check his own.  
  
"Harry, I know you heard some of the things Sirius and I said to one another in the past. I don't deny we had our differences, but, Harry, you should know I admired your godfather very much. He was a true friend. He suffered so much, yet never forgot his loyalty and love. And he did love you, Harry." Her voice was choked with tears now. "Oh, Harry, I'm just so  
  
sorry..."  
  
Her words were now entirely lost in silent tears, her hands covering her face. Harry gaped at her in dismay. Without thinking of what he was doing, Harry moved to kneel beside her chair.  
  
"Please don't, Mrs. Weasley," he said, soothingly. "I know you only had words because you cared. Please don't cry anymore."  
  
At this, Mrs. Weasley grabbed Harry in a tight hug.  
  
"Oh bless you, dear. Thank you..."  
  
She still held him when Mr. Weasley came back in the room. He stood,  
  
smiling down at them, his eyes warm and gentle. When Mrs. Weasley had finally released her hold on Harry, Mr. Weasley laid a hand on her shoulder, and with the other, gently ruffled Harry's hair.  
  
It was such a gentle, paternal gesture, Harry thought it would undo him completely. He stood, and, his chest constricting so he couldn't speak, he  
  
left the room in silence. 


	3. Birthday at Headquarters

Disclaimer: I'm afraid I still don't own anything relative to Harry Potter. JKR hasn't given me any of the rights and, frankly, I've stopped holding my breath...  
  
Author's Notes: C'mon now, People! I'm enjoying myself and all, writing this fic, but it would be so much better with reviews!!!! Many thanks, again, to Moriah S. for being such a great beta reader. _______________________________________  
  
HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND  
  
Chapter 3 - A Birthday at Headquarters  
  
When Harry awoke the next morning, he lay, unmoving, for a moment, trying to remember how he even got to bed the night before.  
  
When he left the Weasleys, he was as near to a complete breakdown as he had ever been. Something deep in his chest twisted when he remembered Mrs. Weasley crying, worried that he was upset with her. Mrs. Weasley had been, always, genuinely kind and good to him and the thought of her ever crying because of him was so awful it nearly made him physically ill. It was made far, far worse by the realization that he had, at different times, been upset with her over her disagreements with Sirius.  
  
Then, Harry's stomach really did lurch. He, had made Mrs. Weasley cry and, today, she was giving him a birthday party. He rolled over, pulling the pillow firmly over his head, drowning out the sound of Ron's snores. Well, he thought, I'll just have to make sure she never has to worry about the way I feel again and always knows how grateful I am...  
  
There was a loud pounding on the door followed by a cheerful shout.  
  
"Out of bed, you layabouts! Harry's got presents!"  
  
"It's just sickening that I've got to have a little sister who is so bloody cheerful in the morning," groaned Ron, rubbing his eyes sleepily.  
  
Harry was already out of bed and tossed a pillow at Ron's head, glad for something to laugh about.  
  
"C'mon, you great lump! No whining on my birthday!"  
  
It didn't take them long to get dressed and arrive in the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley had just placed the last steaming dish on the table. Mr. Weasley, Ginny, Bill, and Charlie were taking their seats. There was a chorus of "Good morning, boys," and "Happy birthday, Harry," as Ron and Harry sat down.  
  
To Harry's eyes, the breakfast spread before him rivaled anything the Hogwarts house elves had ever produced. There were kippers, bacon, bangers and mash, toast, scrambled eggs, hot cakes, and several kinds of muffins. In addition, there was fragrant tea, orange juice and milk. But, most amazing of all were the brightly wrapped packages piled atop Harry's plate.  
  
Only in recent years had Harry received proper birthday gifts at all and those were opened in the middle of the night and examined by the shielded light of an electric torch in his bedroom on Privet Drive. Harry looked at them, stunned.  
  
"Oi! Harry, they won't bite," called Charlie, laughing. "Rip 'em open, there's a good lad, before the breakfast goes cold."  
  
"Charlie, it's good to see you," Harry said over the laughter. "Ron said you were home from Romania." Harry couldn't keep down the feeling of delight at being, however temporarily, a part of the Weasley family again.  
  
Charlie nodded cheerfully as Harry lifted the first bundle from the pile. Wrapped in wild and ever-changing plaid paper, the card was signed by Fred, George and Ginny. Tearing away the paper, Harry found a box stuffed with an assortment of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, including plenty of Canary Creams, Skiving Snackboxes, and even a few Weasley's Wildfire Whiz Bangs. Harry grinned across the table at Ginny.  
  
"These are brilliant, thank you," he said. "Be sure to thank the twins for me, too, won't you?"  
  
Ginny nodded, smiling broadly while Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips in disapproval. In the meantime, Harry unwrapped a second package, this time from Bill and Charlie. It was a book, but one Harry was sure Hermione would never have picked out. It was called NEWT Level Studies, 101 Advanced Heckling Charms for the Gifted Prankster, by Fargus Fewldum.  
  
"With the twins gone," Charlie said with a manic grin, "the common room may get to seeming too quiet. We trust you'll see to that problem." Charlie shot a glance at Ron and Ginny, too, causing everyone but Mrs. Weasley to snigger.  
  
The third gift was from Ron and had a full supply of chocolate frogs, Bertie Bott's Everyflavor Beans and a special scrap book for Harry's now sizable collection of chocolate frog cards. Harry thanked him with a promise to share the bounty.  
  
"What I really want," laughed Ron, "is a look at those heckling charms."  
  
One present remained and Harry turned to it with interest. It was wrapped in purple paper sprinkled with small silver stars which really twinkled. A tag tied to the silver bow read, "To Harry, with much love, Arthur and Molly Weasley." He smiled shyly at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and gently pulled the paper free. Lifting the lid of the box, Harry saw what looked like a crystal ball filled with a swirling silver substance that resembled quicksilver. It was nearly the size of his two fists and looked a bit like Neville Longbottom's Remembrall. Harry picked it up, a little puzzled. Seeing his expression, Mr. Weasley explained.  
  
"It's a Contemplation Sphere, Harry. It's a bit like a pensieve, although you can't store any memories in it. It's really just a crystal ball that has been charmed for a specific individual, to recall their memories. Molly and I worked on the charm for this one and it will respond only to you.  
  
"You simply say, 'Memorarae' and the name of the place, event or person you are wanting to remember. The ball then shows all the memories from your mind, whether you actually can recall them or not. To retrieve a specific memory, you give specific names, place, event and time and off it goes. If you just give a name in the spell, all your memories related to it will appear in reverse chronology. The drawback, of course, is it rather tires you out so the spell won't last long."  
  
"Wow," Harry breathed in admiration, "that's amazing."  
  
"And a nice bit of magic, there," added Bill. "That's no simple charm work. Leave it to Mum and Dad to pull off a charm like that."  
  
"Try it, Harry," begged Ginny, excitedly. "Let's see how it works."  
  
Harry thought for a moment, then held the sphere before him, balanced on his palms.  
  
"Memorarae first birthday," Harry said quietly.  
  
The silver contents of the Contemplation Sphere began swirling faster and emitting a soft glow. Gradually, the silver faded and the ball revealed an image like a small muggle video. Everyone drew a collective breath when they saw Harry's memory.  
  
There was a dark haired man who was unmistakably James Potter, smiling broadly at auburn-haired, green-eyed Lily Potter. She was holding a laughing Baby Harry on her knees. On the table before them was a small cake decorated with sugar animals and a single candle. In red icing letters, it read, "Happy First Birthday, Harry." James leaned forward, lips pursed, showing little Harry how to blow out the candle. Little Harry copied his father, putting out the candle with a series of puffs, rather wetter than intended. With a laugh and a kiss, Lily dried Harry's chin while James cut the cake. The image began to fade back to silver and Harry put his hands to the table with a sigh.  
  
Everyone was silent for a few moments, but then Ginny looked up at Harry, her eyes overbright.  
  
"That was a lovely memory, Harry. Thank you for showing us."  
  
Harry gave a small smile and looked down at the silver sphere before him.  
  
"I've never been able to remember that before. I... well, thank you."  
  
"How do you feel, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked. "As Arthur said, the Memorarae charm can be a bit draining."  
  
"I do feel a bit tired," Harry admitted, "but it is already going away. I'm fine."  
  
"Well, then," said Mr. Weasley heartily, "a very happy birthday to you, Harry! Let's eat!"  
  
Harry carefully set aside his gifts and joined the others in a very big breakfast. Suddenly, a thought came to Ron.  
  
"Mum, hasn't there been an owl or something from Hermione? I know she wouldn't forget Harry's birthday."  
  
"Not to worry," answered Mrs. Weasley. "We had word from Tonks this morning. She was at the Grangers yesterday and Hermione gave her Harry's gift to deliver. Tonks will be here for the Order's meeting tonight and will bring it along then."  
  
After everyone had eaten and the plates were floated to the sink for washing, Mr. Weasley and Bill rose reluctantly.  
  
"Well, I'm afraid Bill and I had best be off to work," Mr. Weasley said. "Can't put off the Ministry."  
  
"And I wouldn't want to be the one to annoy a bunch of goblins by being late," added Bill. "We'll see you all at dinner."  
  
After they had gone out the garden door, Mrs. Weasley turned to the others.  
  
"Well, you lot can't sit inside all day. Charlie, suppose you take them to that clearing you found and have some quidditch."  
  
"Mum," Ginny said, "we didn't bring our brooms."  
  
"I brought them with me, Gin," Charlie explained, "and Kingsley Shacklebolt came by before you were up with all of Harry's things. They're in the corner, there."  
  
Sure enough, there was Harry's trunk, along with his Firebolt, which had been returned to him after Dolores Umbridge's departure from Hogwarts. With some help from Ron, Harry moved his trunk into their room. Then, Charlie, Ginny, Ron and Harry set off.  
  
"There's a nice-sized clearing in the woods over this way," Charlie directed, and set off.  
  
"Charlie, where are we anyway?" questioned Ginny. "We came by portkey and Mum never mentioned it."  
  
"She didn't mention it," he answered, "because she was told not to. The fewer who know about this place, the better. We know you wouldn't intentionally go about telling people, but there are lots of other ways for spies to find out."  
  
Harry started to argue, but Ron's hand on his arm stopped him.  
  
"No point in arguing Harry," Ron hissed, "not when he looks like that."  
  
Harry looked over at Charlie's set jaw and narrowed eyes. He had to admit, Ron had a point.  
  
They walked the rest of the way through the woods to the clearing in silence. It was a hot, still day with the only sounds coming from the birds and insects. When they came out of the shade of the woods and into the sun filled clearing, Ginny gasped.  
  
"It's already set up for quidditch!" she exclaimed, pointing at the goal hoops at either end of the oblong area. "Charlie, did you do this?"  
  
"Guilty as charged," laughed Charlie. "The spot is too perfect to not use. I stopped here on my way to the house this morning and made a few arrangements. As long as we don't go above the level of the trees, we're okay."  
  
So, the four spent the rest of the morning on Charlie's quidditch field. At first, Charlie led them in some warm up and practice manuveres with Ron as keeper, Harry as his beater, and Ginny and Charlie playing chasers trying to score on him. Harry could see that Ron had really improved and Ginny made quite a respectable chaser. He remembered she had wanted to move to that position upon Harry's return to the team.  
  
That made Harry wonder. Although Professor McGonagall had returned his broom on the last day of school, nothing had been said about lifting the life-time ban issued by Umbridge. Surely, with her departure and Dumbledore's return, Harry would be allowed to return to the team. He fervently hoped so.  
  
After a bit, they switched to a two on two game with Ron and Charlie as keepers and Ginny and Harry as chasers. They were well matched and the score was still tied, 60-60, when the agreed to call it a draw and head back for lunch.  
  
Harry was feeling particularly satisfied and more than a little sleepy as they sat at the kitchen table chatting after lunch. He was just thinking of a nice doze in a comfortable chair someplace when Mrs. Weasley roused him.  
  
"Harry, Annwyl is awake and a bit stronger today," she said. "She's been asking for a chance to see you."  
  
Surprised, but admittedly curious, Harry rose to follow Mrs. Weasley from the room. As he reached the door, Charlie called after him.  
  
"Harry, remember, we don't know where she'd been all these years or why she's turned up now. She may be alright, but... well, just be careful."  
  
Harry nodded and left.  
  
When they reached the door of Annwyl's room, Mrs. Weasley turned to Harry.  
  
"Harry, I know Charlie has warned you already so I won't fuss. Just remember, she's still very weak. Try not to tire her out before tonight's meeting. Dumbledore wants the Order to hear the story directly from her and she'll need her strength."  
  
With that, she opened the door and leaned in.  
  
"Annwyl, Harry's come to see you."  
  
She nudged Harry through the door and departed, saying something about dinner preparations as she moved off.  
  
"Er, hello, Miss King," Harry said, somewhat uncomfortably.  
  
"Oh, come in an sit down, Harry," Annwyl answered smoothly, "and do call me Annwyl."  
  
Harry moved to the chair she had indicated, watching her with interest. The bandages on her neck and shoulder were gone and the only visible remains of her injuries was a slight pink tinge to the recently healed skin. She was still quite pale and tired looking and Harry assumed this to be from the loss of blood and the effects of the magic which had complicated her wounds.  
  
Now, in better light and with Annwyl awake, he was able to see what she actually looked like. As Harry had seen before, she was quite a small woman. Her most remarkable feature was certainly her hair which was very dark brown, wildly curly and was long enough to reach her waist. Otherwise, her features, while not displeasing, were not particularly striking. Her expression was pleasant enough, but there was something about her mouth and eyes which made Harry fell this woman would not be easy to know.  
  
While Harry had been watching Annwyl, she had, evidently, been watching him. After a moment, she nodded.  
  
"Remus was right. You are like your father, yet also like your mother."  
  
Harry did not respond, but endeavored to keep a look of polite interest. He had heard, many times, how much he resembled his father.  
  
"Your features are James'," she continued, "but your expressions are Lily's. I suppose you'd like to ask some questions of me, Harry?"  
  
He was slightly taken aback by the abrupt invitation, but after a moment's thought, he nodded.  
  
"Well, of course, Miss... er, Annwyl, I guess we'd all like to ask where you've been all these years when everyone thought you were dead."  
  
"Certainly," she answered, placidly. "I understand Albus wants me to address the Order this evening on that very subject, as well as on how I happened to arrive at the Dursley residence and the attacks which killed the Order operative and injured me. If you'll be so kind as to indulge me, I'll wait until the meeting to answer those questions. Any others?"  
  
She smoothed the bedclothes carefully with her hands. As she did so, the sleeve of her pajama top pulled up, revealing the scar on her right arm which Harry had seen the night she arrived.  
  
"Would you mind telling me how you happened to get that scar? Did you get it while you were an auror?"  
  
"Remus told me you were thinking of being an auror," Annwyl smiled a little. "No, this scar is much older than that.  
  
"Harry, do you know anything about fencing?"  
  
"Er, what, like wrought iron or picket or something?" Harry answered, much puzzled.  
  
"No, no," Annwyl replied, "I mean swordplay. Like in those old muggle films with the Musketeers and Robin Hood and such."  
  
Harry shook his head.  
  
"Well, I'll explain the whole sport another time," she went on. "To make a long story short, years ago, I found myself in a a real fight with, of all crazy things, rapiers - sharp ones, mind. The bloke I was fighting managed to come across my arm with his blade and since I was certainly no healer, by the time I found someone who was, the cut was on its way to becoming a scar. It didn't help that the blade that did it was enchanted with on of the lesser dark curses to hinder healing."  
  
"How in the world did you get in a fight like that?" Harry questioned, curious about a fight which seemed so very dangerous.  
  
"I came across the fellow in Diagon Alley a few days before start of term, my sixth year," said Annwyl. "He was shooting off his mouth about my house and I decided I didn't like his attitude. I let my temper get the better of me and agreed to a bout on his terms. I was arrogant enough to believe I could take him, whatever the circumstances."  
  
She shook her head reminiscently. "Stupid way to behave, really."  
  
"So what happened?" pressed Harry.  
  
"Ah, well, I allowed him to choose our weapons so he brought our a pair of rapiers. His, of course, was cursed to really hurt while mine was hexed to resist the will of the one wielding it. Luckily for me, the hex wasn't strong and I was able to get around it. I gave my new friend some pretty new marks on his cheeks and he turned tail and fled, but not before cutting my arm. At least, he learned to avoid me at school."  
  
"He must have been Slytherin," Harry observed, darkly. "They really can't stand Gryffindors, can they?"  
  
"Actually, no," Annwyl said. "He was Hufflepuff, which was rather surprising, and I was Ravenclaw. Usually, the houses got along fine."  
  
There was a tap at the door and Mrs. Weasley looked in.  
  
"Harry, dear, I think it would be best to let Annwyl have some time to rest now. She's going to need her strength for this evening. Is there anything you need, Annwyl?"  
  
"No, thank you very much, Molly," Annwyl replied. "I believe I shall just do as you suggest and rest, for now."  
  
Mrs. Weasley nodded and left. Harry looked curiously at Annwyl, wondering why her eyes and voice had suddenly grown cool. Frowning to himself, he rose to go.  
  
"It was nice talking with you, Annwyl."  
  
"Wait, Harry," she said, her hand outstretched, "we never got around to talking about you and I would like to know more about you. We will talk again soon, won't we? I should be getting about by tomorrow."  
  
She gave him a keen look, making him squirm a bit. Nodding, he left the room. Harry was headed back toward the kitchen when Ron met him in the sitting room door.  
  
"There you are," he said. "Ginny says you aren't allowed in the kitchen until dinner. She's decorating and has Charlie helping her. I've been banished, as well, and even Professor Lupin has been given the bum's rush. So, come on and let's have some chess or something."  
  
"Yes, Harry," said Remus over Ron's shoulder, "come join us. I've just got in and haven't had a chance to celebrate your birthday, yet. And, by the way Ron, I haven't been your professor for more than two years. I think you ought to call me Remus."  
  
The three went in and sat down by the low table in front of the hearth. Harry's thoughts were still on his recent talk with Annywyl. Ron started to ask questions, but Harry gave him a look that clearly said, "Later."  
  
"Remus," Harry said, "how did you come to know Annwyl?"  
  
"Well, she was Dumbledore's goddaughter," Remus shrugged. "I don't suppose there's much mystery to that. She was a couple years behind us in school and she was a Ravenclaw so we didn't know her well, but we had met. Of course, once we were all working in the Order we knew each other better." He chuckled. "At one point, she was even teaching me to fence."  
  
"You mean that muggle stuff where you fight with swords?" asked Ron, eagerly. "Dad told us about that. It's supposed to be a means of disciplining the mind. Some even call it a physical form of chess." This explained his interest to Harry.  
  
"Yeah, she talked about fencing," Harry said, thoughtfully. "I asked about the scar on her arm."  
  
"Well, her father was a champion and trained her from the time she could hold a foil," Remus said. "She does use it as a form of mental self- control. In fact, that's why she taught me. Lycanthropy can induce some emotional volatility, especially near the full moon. Wyl though fencing would help me focus, and it did, at least, as long as I had a partner for bouting."  
  
"D'you think she'd teach us, once she's feeling better?" asked Ron.  
  
"I don't know, Ron," answered Remus, doubtfully. "It's pretty demanding, physically. I guess it depends on her recovery."  
  
Somehow, Harry felt they'd talked about Annwyl King enough for one day. Charlie's warning was fresh in his memory and he couldn't shake the impression that she would be very difficult to know. All that, plus her strange arrival on Privet Drive aroused Harry's distrust, despite her being Dumbledore's goddaughter and her friendly conversation earlier.  
  
After a moment's silence, Harry spoke up changing the subject.  
  
"Let's have a game then, yeah? Since there are three of us, how about Exploding Snap?"  
  
"Oh, I haven't played in years," Remus protested, laughing.  
  
"But it's my birthday..." whined Harry, his lip out in a mock pout. Ron joined him in looking as comically pitiful as possible.  
  
"Alright, alright!" Remus gave in. "Just, for goodness sake, stop looking like that. It's frightening."  
  
So, the rest of the afternoon was spent in the sitting room. The stresses of the last couple days found their way out of Harry by way of some particularly rash moves during the game which resulted in more than one singed finger. Remus was especially glad when they were called to dinner and entered the kitchen, still nursing a smoking eyebrow.  
  
Harry entered the kitchen and stopped in amazement. Ginny and Charlie had outdone themselves. The ceiling was lit with tiny fluttering fairylights. Streamers festooned the molding around the room in bright and constantly changing colors. A ring of small lanterns floated over the table.  
  
"Wow," breathed Harry. "This is brilliant!"  
  
Mrs. Weasley waved them all to their seats and, just before sitting down, Harry remembered the look in Ginny's eye when she volunteered to decorate. He surreptitiously looked over his seat, but it seemed okay. Another quick glance under and behind the chair revealed nothing so Harry gave up and sat down. Once seated, he was able to see all Mrs. Weasley's preparations on his behalf. The table was, again, loaded with dishes, featuring all Harry's favorites.  
  
Mr. Weasley and Bill had arrived, so as soon as everyone was seated, Ginny cleared her throat and announced in an unusually solemn tone,  
  
"Happy birthday, Harry."  
  
As if signaled by her words, two dozen fairylights dropped from the ceiling and zoomed around Harry's head in dizzy patterns.  
  
"Hey! What the...watch it!... Oh, go on!... GINNY!" Harry exclaimed as the fairies whizzed past his nose, nearly taking his glasses with them.  
  
There was no assistance for Harry, though, as the whole table had dissolved in helpless laughter. Even Mrs. Weasley could be seen dabbing at her eyes.  
  
"They're Following Formation Fairies, Harry," Ginny gasped, grinning. "Fred and George's latest. They're charmed to hover in formation over the guest of honor for as long as he or she is in the room."  
  
Harry was brushing the persistant creatures away from his face and noticed a tiny, tinkling sound.  
  
"Ginny, are they... laughing?"  
  
By now, the Weasleys were in such a state they could scarcely draw breath.  
  
"Don't worry," Ginny managed at last, "they'll settle into patterns over your head in a moment."  
  
Sure enough, after a few more wild passes before Harry's eyes, the fairies began a much calmer series of intricate formations about six inches above his head. Harry was left to eat in relative peace as they formed circles, triangles and star patterns with tight precision.  
  
After eating all the steak and kidney pie he could hold, Harry was slowly finishing his treacle tart when Tonks entered from the garden door.  
  
"Ooo! Is that treacle tart I smell?" she asked, inhaling deeply. "Oh, Molly, please tell me there's a bit left for a weary woman."  
  
Tonks closed her eyes and put the back of her hand to her forehead, tragically. Mrs. Weasley answered by laughingly conjuring another chain and place at the table as Bill passed the tart.  
  
"Ah, brilliant," said Tonks, settling at the table with a satisfied sigh. "Many happy returns of the day, Harry, I'm sure. I did my hair specially, just for the occasion. Like it?"  
  
Harry gazed in amused wonder at her. Instead of her usual brightly colored spikes, Tonks had done her hair in tightly twisted, multicolored corkscrews.  
  
"It's great," he told her, grinning.  
  
"Thanks! By the way, I love what you've done with your fairies." As she spoke, they formed a sparkly heart over Harry's head, causing him to give them a mildly impatient swat.  
  
"Oh, and Hermione asked me to bring this to you," Tonks added, passing a small package over to Harry.  
  
Harry opened the attached note first and, smiling, read Hermione's tiny, perfect script aloud.  
  
Happy Birthday, Harry!  
Tonks was good enough to deliver this for me, so I knew it would be on time. She told me a bit of what happened at the Dursleys. I'm glad you are safely at  
headquarters now, but I must admit to being a bit jealous. It's dull as a wet day here.  
At least, there isn't anything to distract me from my homework. I've nearly finished  
now. (At this, Ron rolled his eyes and Ginny giggled.)  
I hope you enjoy your gift. The advertisement said it was the latest model and  
guaranteed to be accurate.  
  
Love,  
From Hermione's  
  
Inside the wrapping was a box labeled, "From the makers of Qwik Qwotes Qwills - The Qwiktate Qwill, guaranteed 100% accurate, excellent for students."  
  
"Wow," said Harry, reading the inner packaging, "this says it will accurately record anything I say." He looked at the scarlet quill appreciatively. "I hope it is as accurate as it says. Imagine me turning in a Transfiguration essay written with one of Rita Skeeter's quills."  
  
Once everyone was again busy with dessert and conversations, Remus leaned over and spoke in Harry's ear.  
  
"Harry, I have a gift for you, as well, but I think it might be better for you to see it someplace more, er, private. Let's go out in the garden."  
  
They excused themselves and slipped out into the dusk. Harry noticed the moon was nearly full. Remus was in for a hard time of it in a few days. Harry knew Moony had had Padfoot's company for all the full moons of the last couple of years. This would be only the second full moon since Sirius' death.  
  
Seating themselves on a stone bench not far from the house, Remus turned to Harry, holding a small box.  
  
"Harry, this gift really isn't from me, at all. The original giver was your father. James gave this to Sirius on his sixteenth birthday. It matched one your grandfather had given James at the same time. Unfortunately, James' was destroyed... Well, I know Sirius was planning to give this to you today. Really, the gift is his."  
  
Harry took the box, his hands shaking. Lifting the lid, he drew out a lovely silver pocket watch. The exterior of the case was quite plain, but the inside of the lid, when opened, revealed engraving on the silver surface.  
  
Go where you will, the bond of affection remains.  
  
"It is amazing," said Harry softly. "Remus, I don't know what to say."  
  
"Just keep it with you, Harry. It meant a great deal to Sirius and it would please him and James to know it was with you now."  
  
Harry sat staring at the watch, his heart swelling with emotion which choked off all speech. Into this quiet scene, Mr Weasley reluctantly entered.  
  
"I don't mean to interrupt, but it's time you were both inside. The Order is arriving." 


	4. Coming to Order

Disclaimer: Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zippo. Nuttin. I own no part of anything related to Harry Potter. JK Rowling gets all the credit and adulation. This story is strictly for entertainment purposes.  
  
Authors Note: Love the reviews, folks! Thanks to Keyca and to Firebreath. BTW, Firebreath, point taken. Thanks. Hope the formatting looks better now.  
  
_______________________ HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND  
  
Chapter Four - Coming to Order  
  
Harry and Remus reentered the kitchen to find Ron and Ginny sitting alone at the table.  
  
"They're all in the sitting room. They're just waiting on you and Kingsley Shacklebolt to get started." Ginny's voice curled with disgust. "We aren't welcome."  
  
"You'd think after all that's happened, you know, with the D.A. and all, they'd let us hear her story, anyway," grumbled Ron. "I know the twins aren't in there either, but that's only because someone had to stay at The Burrow and look after things." He sighed deeply as Ginny rolled her eyes.  
  
Although Harry's reappearance had, again, drawn the Following Formation Fairies, even they seemed affected by the mood which hung over the table like a cloud. They swung in a slow circle over Harry's head as he spoke.  
  
"Oh, come on. You know I'll come right back and tell you everything, anyway. Tell you what, Ron. Why don't you two get that charm book Bill and Charlie gave me and start looking up spells to use on Malfoy."  
  
Ron gave Harry a lopsided grin.  
  
"Yeah, you'll be telling me everything. Like you could avoid it... Alright, c'mon Gin, we may as well have a look at those hexes. You never know, they might be dead useful."  
  
He and Ginny rose from the table and followed Remus out of the room. Harry followed, as well, leaving his fairies behind.  
  
Remus and Harry hurried into the sitting room. Harry noticed quite a change since he, Remus and Ron had been playing cards there earlier in the day. The furniture had been transfigured into rows of straight backed chairs. At the end of the room, opposite the fireplace, several chairs sat in a semi-circle, facing the others. Remus steered Harry toward the semi- circle where Tonks, Diggle, and Annwyl were already seated. As Harry sat down between Tonks and Remus, he stole a glance at Annwyl. She sat a bit apart from the others, taking no part in conversation as the others in the room were doing. Her face was still rather pale and her eyes were fixed high on the opposite wall. Her expression was calm but Harry noticed her hands were clenched in tight fists in her lap.  
  
Standing to one side, conferring quietly and looking over the assembled group was Dumbledore and, to Harry's distinct displeasure, the Hogwarts Potions Master, Severus Snape. As he watched the two men, Harry could feel his own lip curling in distaste. Snape was as unpleasant looking as ever, his long, dark hair lank about his sharp, sallow face. As he listened to the headmaster speak, Snape looked in Harry's direction. As their eyes met, Snape's habitual sneer deepened. Harry stared, unblinking, unwilling to be the first to look away. After a moment, Snape looked away with a flare of his nostrils.  
  
"Easy, Harry. It won't do anyone any good to have the two of you constantly at each other's throats," Remus hissed in his ear. He had seen what had passed between them and was looking at Harry with concern.  
  
"Well, Harry," said Tonks, leaning in from the other side, unaware of any tension, "there's Kingsley, now. That should do us. Are you ready to tell your story?"  
  
"What? Me?" asked Harry, much surprised. "I thought we were going to hear Annwyl's version."  
  
"Yes, but the group will need to hear your version, as well as anything Tonks, Diggle and I can tell them," Remus explained.  
  
Dumbledore had moved to stand directly in front of Harry's chair, facing the others in the room. He raised his hands and hemmed and a hush came over the group as they took their seats.  
  
"My friends," the old headmaster began, "I thank you for your prompt attendance this evening."  
  
Harry was struck anew at how much Albus Dumbledore had seemed to age in recent years. Tonight, his white hair and beard seemed to have aged to near transparency. The lines of his face had deepened and the blue eyes, though bright and alert as ever, did not twinkle with any trace of humor.  
  
"Since Voldemort's exposure at the Ministry more than a month ago, we have been waiting for signs of his next course of action," Dumbledore went on. "Two nights ago, we received that sign, although, as we have come to expect, the Ministry is hesitant to act upon it. I want you to hear the story directly from those involved in that night's events. I invite Remus Lupin to begin."  
  
So, Remus rose and told his story - how Hestia Jones had been on duty at Privet Drive that night, how he had received an urgent message from Arabella Figg about a magical person crossing the wards around the Dursleys' house. Then, he nodded to Harry, who came to stand beside him. Once again, Harry poured out his story. When he had finished, he and Remus resumed their seats. Dedalus Diggle stood with Tonks and they described what had occurred after they left Remus and Harry.  
  
Not surprisingly, they found no trace of the attacker. They suspected some sort of connection with Voldemort, but no Dark Mark had been cast. In fact, Hestia's injuries did not resemble anything they had ever seen before. The two remained on guard the rest of that night and there had been the usual guard since then, but Privet Drive remained quiet.  
  
When Tonks and Diggle were seated again, Dumbledore spoke.  
  
"And so, you see our dilemma. Madame Pomfrey came from Hogwarts to attend to Annwyl King, but rather than shedding light on the situation, her observations were befuddling. It was not until the following afternoon, when I was able to speak with Miss King, that I was able to discern a pattern in these events."  
  
Harry's eyes widened in surprise.  
  
"When did Dumbledore talk to Annwyl? I never saw him," he whispered to Remus.  
  
"Later, Harry," answered Remus, quietly. "It's a bit hard to explain."  
  
In the meantime, Annwyl had gone forward to stand beside her godfather. Despite knowing whom they were to see and hear, a hum of whispers rose from the group upon seeing her stand. Annwyl seemed oblivious to the excitement. She gave her godfather a solemn look, then turned to the others to speak.  
  
"I daresay you will all have numerous questions to ask me," she began, her voice cool and detatched. "As I am certain that some, at least, will be answered in the course of my story, I ask that you wait until all is told before voicing them."  
  
She paused for a moment, looking around. Taking their silence as acquiescence, she nodded briefly, took a deep breath and began her tale.  
  
"For those of you not familiar with my history, I was, in the previous war against the Dark Lord, a member of this Order and a newly trained auror for the Ministry. Like many, my training was abbreviated so as to make us available for duty sooner. So, after only one year of training and lacking some of the current academic requirements, I entered field duty with the Auror Corps at age 19. I served for nearly one year.  
  
"I must take you back to the night of my disappearance nearly 15 years ago in order to properly explain my reappearance on Privet Drive. It was mid November, roughly two weeks after the attack on the Potters and the scattering of the Dark Order. I, and seven other aurors were staging a raid on a meeting of suspected Death Eaters still at large. Upon our arrival, it became obvious that not only was it a Dark Order meeting, the group was some three times larger than our informant had led us to believe and they have been warned of our arrival. We found ourselves outnumbered, three to one, and they were prepared to kill.  
  
"As some of you may remember, seven Death Eaters were captured that night, but two aurors were killed and I was ultimately presumed dead, as well. A great loss, indeed, but I did not learn of it for several days.  
  
I know several aurors reported having seen me fall to an unknown curse and then disappear. It was assumed that the fall and disappearance was the result of one fatal spell. As you can see, they was not the case. I was, in fact, hit with two spells a split-second apart. The first was a stunning spell, though cast with rather more strength than is usual. The second was a form of banishing charm. I have, since, researched the spell and I learned that this Exilae charm is actually part of the Dark Arts. Exilae does not merely banish, it removes altogether. The distance the object, or in this case, person moves depends upon the power injected into the charm when it is cast. In this instance, the spell was a powerful one. I found myself some thirty kilometers from where I had been fighting.  
  
"So, I regained consciousness in a wooded area, unfamiliar to me, and I was not able to determine how long I had been stunned. After walking an hour or so, I came upon a farmhouse where I was able to obtain a meal, some directions toward London, and an opportunity to read a muggle newspaper. I found I had been unconscious nearly three days.  
  
"Since I now knew where I was, I was able to apparate back to my flat where I intended to contact the Ministry and the Order immediately. However, upon arriving home, I found in the owl post box, a copy of The Prophet from the morning after the raid. It listed me among the dead. Now, I might have corrected them, of course, but I was stopped by the only other letter in the box. It was unsigned but for a small rendering of the Dark Mark. It said that the faithful of the Dark Lord were aware I had not been killed. They were seeking me particularly so as to revenge themselves upon my godfather. It seemed they blamed him, most particularly, for their master's downfall.  
  
"At this point, I formulated a new plan. I could go into hiding and serve as a spy for the Order. Most already considered me dead. Assuming a new identity would be no challenge. I had only to avoid a handful of revenge-starved Death Eaters. You see, I agreed with my godfather that while the Dark Order was disbanded, their master could not, due to the nature of the sort of magic he practiced, be dead, but only temporarily thwarted. I hoped that providing information to the Order anonymously, his return might be delayed until his power was spent.  
  
"This, then, is what I did. For the past nearly fifteen years I have been a shadow spy for the Order. On many occasions, Albus has received information in various ways, all originating from me, although he was completely unaware of this. For the safety of all concerned, I deemed it best that the source be known to no one.  
  
However, recently, the news I had gathered was of such a strange and complex nature, I decided to sacrifice my secrecy and contact the Order directly. I was in the process of doing this two nights ago when I was attacked."  
  
Annwyl paused a moment and looked around. Harry followed her glance and saw more than one skeptical look. He couldn't blame them. He thought, himself, her story sounded a bit off. Even Mr. Weasley, standing at the opposite end of the room wore a calculating look unusual to him. Snape, Harry noticed, was sneering in disdain, and eerily, a touch of amusement. Seeing the doubt, Annwyl squared her shoulders and continued.  
  
"I was trying to make direct contact with the Order to explain the latest plans to attack throughout Britain. Through a series of highly discreet contacts, I have learned that the Dark Lord intends to develop his abilities in Legilimency, enhancing them with a variety of Dark spells of his own devising. It seems his goal is to be able to impose upon his victims, souls of his own creation, thus creating entirely faithful and suggestible serpents."  
  
At this, the murmuring broke out anew. Annwyl took her seat and Harry noticed she was shaking and even more pale. He looked at Remus next to him. The older man's face was still, his eyes thoughtful.  
  
Dumbledore, once again, raised his hand for silence.  
  
"Since hearing Miss King's story yesterday, I have had several operatives checking on Voldemort's progress in this area. Additionally, several others have been looking into the attacks on Annwyl and Hestia Jones." Dumbledore sighed a little. "It seems Voldemort's progress was demonstrated in the attacks. As you have already heard, the wounds sustained by the two are, in appearance, consistent with a werewolf attack. Based on an eyewitness account given by one of the Dursleys' neighbors, there was a man in dark robes wandering about Privet Drive shortly after the attack. The witness was able to give quite and accurate description before his memory was modified by a Ministry representative. His description of the stranger strongly resembles Miss King's description of her attacker. The witness also described the man as aimless - looking as though he wasn't actually seeing anything or or was able to take notice of anything passing around him. He was not, however, at any time, described as a werewolf."  
  
Harry stole a glance at Remus. He was rigid, his eyes closed, his face white. Harry longed to say something, but couldn't think what. Dumbledore was still addressing the group.  
  
"While we are, as yet, unable to determine precisely what occurred, I have formulated an hypothesis. Since the breach of Azkaban, we can assume the dementors to be in Voldemort's service. I fear, Voldemort has chosen to practice and perfect his soul imposition spells on individuals who have been kissed. Their absence of souls would render them highly suitable subjects for his experimentation. I believe the attack near the Dursley residence was a trial run in which Voldemort imposed the semblance of a werewolf soul upon one who had been kissed."  
  
The vague murmurs escalated into outcries of alarm. The headmaster stretched out his hands placatingly.  
  
"Now, now. My friends, we must keep our heads. While we do not know how the process is accomplished or how to prevent it, we can be reassured that the spell seems, at this time, to be temporary."  
  
Harry felt this was small comfort in the face of totally unpredictable werewolf attacks. However, before anyone could comment aloud, a wizard Harry didn't know entered the room. The man came forward and Harry noticed a badge on his robes which indicated he was a Ministry auror. He stopped before Dumbledore and offered a parchment.  
  
"Albus, I've just come from the Ministry. Muggle police picked up a muggle male who matches the description of the fellow seen wandering around Privet Drive. Ministry aurors have been monitoring any muggle arrests resembling then man. Two aurors were dispatched immediately. They examined the detainee. He has, most certainly, been kissed."  
  
At this, several rose and looked questioningly at Dumbledore. One, whom Harry recognized as Kingsley Shackelbolt, spoke.  
  
"Albus, perhaps you had better carry on without those of us who are aurors. This latest is sure to cause a bit of a blow up and I imagine we shall all be summoned for duty."  
  
"Yes, of course," Dumbledore agreed. "The sooner we get the facts of the situation, the better."  
  
Next to Harry, Tonks rose. Dropping him a wink and whispering one last wish for a happy birthday, she joined the other exiting aurors. They were stopped, however, by a commotion in the hall outside the door. Dumbledore waved to Arthur Weasley, who brought the aurors back, along with, to everyone's surprise, George Weasley.  
  
"What in the world are you doing here?" demanded Mr. Weasley. "Where's Fred?"  
  
"Sorry, Dad, I used your emergency portkey," George answered, looking more serious than Harry had ever seen him. "Fred and I had just finished tending to the wards at home, when we got an urgent owl from Tom at the Leaky Cauldron. He was contacting all the Diagon Alley merchants. There's been some sort of attack. Bloody big, from the sound of it. Fred wanted to go straight away, but I talked him into waiting until I got back. I think some of the Order ought to come."  
  
"Albus," Remus spoke up, "suppose I go with Dedalus and Mundungus. No one would think twice seeing us there. And, perhaps, Arthur had better bet home and wait for official notice from the Ministry."  
  
"Dedalus and Mundungus should go, certainly, and perhaps Charlie Weasley could join them. Arthur, you should go home and await word." Dumbledore held up a hand, cutting off Remus' objection. "No, Remus. I can't allow you to go. If this should be another attack staged to appear the work of werewolves, you would certainly end in Ministry custody. No, it is too great a risk. There will be to much panic and too little information."  
  
At this, Dumbledore turned to various people, sending some to Ministry offices and others to notify Order members not present.  
  
"Bill," Dumbledore addressed the eldest Weasley son, "perhaps you could go and relieve Alastor Moody of his duty on Privet Drive. I am certain he shall be anxious to go to Diagon Alley himself."  
  
In moments, nearly everyone in the room had scattered under the old wizard's direction. There remained, with him, only Harry, Remus, Annwyl, Snape and Professor McGonagall, whom Harry had not even noticed until that moment.  
  
"Minerva," the headmaster said, "I think you, Remus and I should return to Hogwarts. We can receive updates there quite promptly as well as discuss a few other... tactical concerns."  
  
Harry, watching all that passed, froze suddenly, hearing Snape speaking behind him. The professor's voice was a low, silken hiss which made Harry shudder. Then he realized with a start that Snape was not speaking to him, but to Annwyl, who was still slumped in her chair.  
  
"As lamentable as this attack shall certainly prove to be, how fortunate for you, Miss King. They seem to have forgotten their questions."  
  
Harry shifted slightly in his seat so as to watch the pair surreptitiously. Snape was leaning slightly over the high back of Annwyl's chair, his left hand on the arm. Annwyl, nearly as pale as the night she was attacked, was staring stonily back at the Potions Master, saying nothing.  
  
"To satisfy my own curiosity," Snape went on, "I had thought to ask several questions, myself. I would ask why, when all other still-active Death Eaters sought an infant Potter to revenge their master, this group of which you speak sought to strike so obliquely at Albus Dumbledore." His voice lowered further to a near snarl. "And, I would ask how such a young and inexperienced auror, who's transfiguration abilities were particularly lacking, was able to hid her identity whilst spying so very effectively for nearly fifteen years - without ever once leaving any trace or hint of her existence."  
  
Harry had to admire Annwyl's reflexes. Weak and shaking as she visibly was, her hand shot forward, pushing back the left sleeve of Snape's robes. The cold, vicious looking Dark Mark, Voldemort's brand, glared startlingly against the sallow skin.  
  
"Indeed, Professor Snape. Questions can be so extremely awkward, can they not?" Annwyl's voice was quiet with icy calm.  
  
Snape drew himself upright quickly, pulling away his arm. Without a glance or word to anyone, he swept from the room, his black robes swirling as he went.  
  
Annwyl was still sitting, statue-still, when Mrs. Weasley entered the room.  
  
"Albus, if you are all leaving now, surely it would be alright for Annwyl to get back to bed. She is still recovering and this is all very draining for her, I'm sure." She approached Annwyl as Dumbledore nodded. "Come on, then, Annwyl. Let's get you back to your room, shall we? Harry, suppose you take her other arm?"  
  
Having just heard her speak to the Order and hold her ground before Snape, Harry was surprised to find, now, that all Annwyl's strength seemed to have left her. She didn't speak, but leaned heavily on Harry and Mrs. Weasley as they helped her down the hall to her room. Reaching the door, Mrs. Weasley, turned to Harry.  
  
"Thank you, Harry. We can manage from here. Ron and Ginny are having a snack in the kitchen before bed. Suppose you join them."  
  
When Harry entered the kitchen a moment later, Ron was at the table with a plate of treacle tart and Ginny was kneeling before the fire, toasting fork in hand and a bag of marshmallows by her side. Harry dropped into a chair and rested his forehead on the table. A sudden wave of exhaustion hit him. It didn't feel like the same evening as the merry birthday dinner.  
  
"Well," said Ron, expectantly, "spill it, Harry, and don't leave anything out. Ginny, toast the man a marshmallow, yeah?" Ginny stuck her tongue out in reply, but speared another marshmallow just the same.  
  
"What happened to the Formation Fairies?" asked Harry, looking around.  
  
"The charm wears off in a few hours, just like regular fairylights," Ginny replied, handing him a lightly browned candy. "Careful, it's still a bit warm. So?"  
  
Harry blew on the candy, cooling it while he collected his thoughts. There really was an awful lot to tell. When he had finished chewing, he launched into his story, leaving nothing out, including the odd exchange between Snape and Annwyl.  
  
"Well," said Ron, when Harry had finished, "we reckoned something big was up when George turned up. He looked like he'd smelled a troll."  
  
"There's something odd about Annwyl's story, isn't there?" Ginny commented, thoughtfully rotating the toasting fork over the flames. "I mean, why would a Death Eater have used such an obscure banishing charm? Why not just cast a body bind and carry her off? And what does an Exilae charm actually do? Did she disappear and reappear thirty kilometers away or did she go soaring over the countryside? Sounds a bit dodgy, if you ask me."  
  
"We could use Hermione and the Hogwarts library about now," answered Harry.  
  
"I never thought I'd be saying this," said Ron, after a few moments' thought, "and I'm betting it's going to hurt when I do, but... I think I have to go along with Snape, here. How did she hide all this time?"  
  
"It's funny, you know," mused Harry. "She was perfectly pleasant when I was talking to her this afternoon, but I never got the impression she was actually talking to me - more like she was talking through me. You know, like her mind wasn't really on what she was saying at all."  
  
"Ordinarily, I'd say Snape distrusting her is practically a ringing endorsement," said Ron, frowning.  
  
"Yeah," Harry answered, "but this time, I'm not so sure."  
  
Mrs. Weasley came in at that moment and looked at them in surprise.  
  
"Are you three still up, then? I thought you'd have gone off ages ago."  
  
"We want to wait up for Dad," Ginny said, her eyes pleading.  
  
"Oh, no, dear," Mrs. Weasley answered, "it'll be hours before anyone knows anything. You lot may as well get to bed. I daresay there'll be news in the morning."  
  
Knowing no amount of arguing would sway her, Harry, Ron and Ginny rose and said goodnight. After one more thank you for the birthday supper, Harry followed the other two out of the kitchen.  
  
They separated at the stairs, Ginny going up to her room which was next to her parents' and Ron and Harry turning down the hall to theirs. They moved about quietly, knowing Annwyl's room was just across from their's. There was no sound from her room. It seemed only a few minutes before Ron's snores filled the night, but Harry lay awake, thinking over everything he'd seen and heard. Nothing got any clearer, however, and after a bit, with a sigh of disgust, Harry rolled over and forced himself to sleep. 


	5. Focusing

Disclaimer: I'm running out of cute ways to say this... I DON'T OWN THIS. I'm afraid that if you want cute, you'll have to read previous disclaimers.  
  
Author's notes: Thanks again to my fabulous beta reader, Moriah S. Thanks also, to my reviewers - Firebreath, Tessa66, and Keyca. It helps me to hear from you guys. I apologize that this chapter was delayed. It was more of a problem than you might suppose. Also, apologies in advance since chapter 6 will be a bit delayed as well. I have family visiting from out of town and, as you can imagine, I want to spend as much time as I can with them. However, I promise I will update as soon as I can.  
  
HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND  
  
Chapter 5 - Focusing  
  
When Harry arrived at breakfast the next morning, Mr. Weasley was there. Ron and Ginny were poring over a single copy of The Daily Prophet while Mr. Weasley told the whole story to his wife.  
  
"By the time Ministry aurors arrived," said Mr. Weasley, "it was pretty well over. The attack was on some people who had just come from dinner and were having a bit of window shopping before heading home. In a way, we were lucky about the time of the attack. There weren't many about at that time of night. Still, three dead and seven injured is no small matter."  
  
"Did it look like a werewolf attack?" Harry asked. He knew, in the pit of his stomach already, but couldn't help asking - hoping for a different answer.  
  
Mr. Weasley simply nodded. The porridge Harry had been eating congealed in his stomach and stuck in his throat. Would anyone believe that the attacks weren't really werewolves? Sure, the injured would heal, but no one had ever seen this sort of mess before. Harry had a sudden, horrible vision of Remus surrounded by a wizard lynch mob.  
  
Breakfast was a silent meal after that. Once Ron and Ginny finished reading The Prophet's account of the attack, Ginny pushed the paper over to Harry. Her eyes were wide and her freckles were vivid in her pale face. Reading only the headlines was enough to tell Harry that the outlook wasn't good. The banner headline read,  
  
WEREWOLVES ATTACK DIAGON ALLEY  
  
and there was a list of related articles down the right side of the page which were even more damning.  
  
No Full Moon - Werewolf Physiology Changing?  
Is You-Know-Who Involved? Does He Control the Werewolves?  
Werewolves Unpredictable - Who Do We Trust?  
  
Harry skimmed the front page, but it didn't offer anything Mr. Weasley hadn't already told them. The inner stories said more. While they did admit the injured would not be permanently affected, there was no mention of Dumbledore's theory that these were not werewolves at all, but mere shells of humans, manipulated to behave like werewolves. Instead, there were accusations against the medical community, implying there had been a cover up hiding the volatility and unpredictable nature of Lycanthropy.  
  
Shortly after breakfast, Mr. Weasley left to return to his office. Charlie arrived at the same time, bringing owl post from The Burrow.  
  
"Oh good," said Mrs. Weasley. "I've been looking forward to Witch Weekly. A bit of light reading can do wonders for your state of mind."  
  
"Gin," said Charlie with a grin, "here's one for you. Looks like Dean Thomas' writing. Shall I read it out for you, then?"  
  
Ginny snatched the note from his hand, giving her brother a nasty look.  
  
"Watch her, you should," commented Ron, meaningfully. "You haven't seen her use the Furnunculus curse yet." Ron shuddered. "Though I don't know what she sees in Thomas, anyway."  
  
"Dean's alright," said Harry, wanting to stop one of Ron's tirades. "Mrs. Weasley, where is Annwyl?"  
  
"Having a bit of a lie in. Last night's meeting was very hard on her. She should be up for dinner this evening," she answered.  
  
Ron then suggested some flying and Harry was glad to agree. His head always felt clearer after a good quidditch workout. Charlie begged off, saying he had some work for Dumbledore, though he wouldn't say what. Ron and Harry set off for the clearing on their own.  
  
In the afternoon, Harry and Ron, joined by Ginny, sat in the big sitting room, it's furnishings returned to their normal state. At first, they talked about the attack in Diagon Alley and about the Order meeting. However, it wasn't long before they had exhausted the subjects. Too little was known and, although Harry felt more in the loop than last year, there was nothing they could do while then waited at headquarters.  
  
"I wish we could find out more about Legilimency," Ginny said, her fingers drumming on her knee. "Harry, are you certain that's all Snape ever told you? Just that it is more than just mind reading?"  
  
"Well, yeah," answered Harry, frowning. "He never really talked to me much in those Occlumency lessons, you know? Mostly, we snapped at one another."  
  
"Oh, drop it," sighed Ron. "We're just thinking in circles now. I say we need to give it a bit of a rest. C'mon and let's have some chess."  
  
Harry suggested Ron and Ginny have the first fame and he would take on the winner. As the two red heads bent over the chess board, Harry sat back, watching, but not really seeing. He was thinking back to the aborted Occlumency lessons.  
  
Harry thought it very possible that Snape had told him a little more about Legilimency, and he simply couldn't recall. He now had an ideal way of retrieving those memories, but Harry was afraid that if he suggested his Contemplation Sphere, Ron and Ginny would want to watch. There were definitely parts of those lessons he didn't feel like sharing with anyone, nor did he feel like explaining that fact. Sometime, when he could find a few moments alone, he'd check his memories in the sphere.  
  
The rest of the afternoon passed in games of chess. Dinnertime brought Mr. Weasley with the latest news and, for the first time since their arrival, Annwyl joined them at the table.  
  
They had all eagerly expected some new information by the end of the day, but found their hopes disappointed. No trace of the attackers had been found. While everyone believed it to be the work of Voldemort, officially, the Ministry was still refusing to comment. It seemed, having finally acknowledged the Dark Lord's return, Fudge had gone as far as he was willing to go. Though the resurrection of the Dark Order was undisputed, there appeared to be no plans to meet the threat posed.  
  
"The good news in all this," said Mr. Weasley, "if you can stretch so far as to call it good, is that people are getting worried. Now that there has been an attack, everyone is asking what the Ministry intends to do."  
  
"But," Mrs. Weasley put in, "if that scares Fudge into some foolish, hasty move..." Her voice trailed off uncertainly.  
  
When the remark remained unfinished, Ginny spoke.  
  
"What will happen, Mum?"  
  
"Then, Remus and all those like him will find themselves in interment camps," answered Annwyl, coldly. "Of course it will be 'for their own safety.'"  
  
Harry sat frozen as his mind raced through the possibilities. More and even less- justified restrictions - or imprisonment - on the werewolves would make some easy prey for anyone willing to promise them freedom. Voldemort would offer them everything the Ministry had denied them. The public, already largely biased against werewolves, would turn on them entirely. How long before there was a bounty placed on Remus' head, regardless of his unswerving loyalty to Dumbledore and the Order?  
  
The rest of the meal was eaten in a heavy silence and the dark mood did not lift in the warmth of the sitting room fire later. Annwyl had gone straight back to her room from the table. Ginny lay on her stomach on the hearth rug, apparently trying to answer Dean's letter. Mostly, she stared into the flames, brushing her quill absently back and forth across her nose. Mrs. Weasley was knitting another jumper while Ron, Harry and Mr. Weasley tried to feign interest in chess and quidditch talk. No one fooled any of the others, however. The worry was so profound, Harry was surprised he couldn't see it washing about them in great, murky waves. At last, they all gave up and headed to bed.  
  
The next morning was very much the same. In fact, the next several days passed with very little amendment. They did receive word from Remus, saying it seemed safest all around for him to spend the full moon (now only a couple days away) in a dungeon room at Hogwarts Castle. Dumbledore had, apparently, fixed up one, particularly, to accommodate Remus through his transformation with as much comfort and safety as possible.  
  
Harry was relieved that Remus would be safe, but he couldn't help feeling restless and frustrated. The connection between Voldemort and any form of Lycanthropy was something Harry wanted, very much, to discuss with Remus. He was also worried about what new attack might come during the full moon when true werewolves were most dangerous. It was easy to see Harry wasn't the only one worrying.  
  
After three days of this tense waiting, the first of three days of the full moon came. That night might be the night Voldemort tipped his hand. Throughout the day, Harry was restless. He went to the quidditch clearing with Ron and Ginny as usual, but not even flying could keep his worry at bay.  
  
In the afternoon, he sat with his Charms text, trying to complete some of the homework Professor Flitwick had set them at the end of term. However, after reading the description of the wand movements for a weaving charm four times without taking in a word, Harry tossed his textbook aside in disgust.  
  
Annwyl entered the sitting room where Harry had been studying with Ron and Ginny. Noticing the Charms text which had obviously been cast aside, her eyebrow quirked slightly.  
  
"What a peaceful, intellectual scene," she said, idly lifting Harry's book and rifling the pages. "It seems a pity, really, to break it up, but that is precisely what I'm going to do."  
  
The three looked at her blankly, but Annwyl merely turned to go, motioning them to follow. Ginny shrugged and rose, so Ron and Harry followed suit. Annwyl led them into the garden and, reaching an open stretch of grass, turned to face them.  
  
"Now that I am sufficiently recovered, I intend to resume a daily training program. I could pursue this on my own but, in my brief opportunity to observe the three of you, I find you are as much in need of training as myself. Therefore, you will join me."  
  
Harry's eyes narrowed at her tone and Ron's jaw dropped in surprise. It was Ginny who spoke up.  
  
"Er, I wouldn't want to seem forward or anything," she said, her voice just touched with sarcasm, "but would you mind explaining what sort of training? I mean, what if we'd rather not?"  
  
The corners of Annwyl's mouth lifted slightly. "My dear, you have been spending quite a bit of time with your twin brothers, haven't you?" She noted the surprise on Ginny's face. "Yes, I know about Fred and George. You see, in spying for the Order, I found it necessary to become rather well acquainted with the Weasley family. However, those are stories for another day. Right now, to answer your question, Ginny, I intend to teach you to fence."  
  
With a wave of her wand, Annwyl transfigured her clothes. She now wore close-fitting white breeches, tall socks and flexible shoes. Her white jacket was hip length and also fitted with long sleeves and a high, stiff-looking collar. Her right hand was gloved and tucked under her arm, she carried a heavy-looking metal mesh mask, clearly designed to cover all the face and a fair bit of the head. Another wave conjured a long, thin, sword.  
  
"Let's begin with why one learns to fence," said Annwyl. "The physical aspects of fencing are well and good, but a master relies as much on mental agility as physique. Fencing teaches one proper mental focus - an ability to master one's thoughts even in moments of pressure or disarray. Remember, one's mental control must be finely honed and quite connected to one's physical control."  
  
Harry had to admit there was some appeal in what Annwyl was saying. He thought back, reluctantly, to his failed Occlumency lessons. If only he had been able to focus, despite his anger and his dislike of Snape... He glanced over at Ron, whose eyes were bright with interest. He remembered how eager Ron had sounded when Remus had told them of Annwyl's fencing experience. Ginny, too, was listening closely.  
  
Annwyl then began to explain the equipment, transforming their clothes into proper fencing attire as she spoke - breeches and socks to protect the legs and permit movement, flexible rubber-soled shoes for maneuverability, the padded jacket to protect the torso and, last, the mask to protect the face and head along with its bib hanging down to protect the throat. Annwyl then conjured three more weapons which she called foils, showing them how to grip them properly.  
  
Then, she began to work them earnest. She led them in footwork which seemed, to Harry, remarkably like dancing. He felt very awkward, shuffling back and forth in a semi-crouch as Annwyl called for them to advance or retreat. However, he did find that moving in the right direction while maintaining the position of his feet, body and foil required more concentration than he had guessed.  
  
They spent much of the afternoon in the garden advancing, retreating, and even lunging forward with their foils extended. When Annwyl was satisfied they understood the proper movement, she conjured three targets, floating in front of them and set them to lunging, striking the targets with their foils.  
  
Harry had often felt he was quite fit from quidditch practice but the constant demands on his legs, lower back, and even his arm from Annwyl's fencing training was beginning to make him question his fitness. When he dropped into bed that night, his legs aching with fatigue, he felt only gratitude as he dropped easily in to a deep sleep on a night he had not expected to sleep at all.  
  
Much to everyone's surprise, morning came with no new attacks. Reports from various members of the Order were largely notable only for their lack of news. There was still no progress in figuring out how Voldemort's spells worked, but they could, at least, feel glad for the chance to catch their breaths.  
  
Each afternoon, Harry, Ron and Ginny joined Annwyl in the garden for fencing lessons. They had made good progress and were learning the motions of simple attacks and defenses, or parrys, taking turns pairing with one another and with Annwyl.  
  
About a week after the first night of the full moon, Remus returned, thinner and more tired looking, but cheerful. There still had been no new attacks and there had been, as yet, no rash reactions from the Ministry. He came upon them in the garden during a lesson and Harry was so surprised and pleased to see him, he allowed Ginny to complete a rather forceful lunge against him, unchecked.  
  
"Rem... ugh!" Harry grunted as Ginny's foil point landed with precision in his midriff. Rubbing the sore spot vigorously, he tried again. "Remus, when did you get here?" Harry smiled.  
  
"Only just arrived. Wyl, it didn't take you long to rope them in."  
  
Annwyl didn't answer. Instead, she flicked her wand in his direction and went back to drilling Ron on feinting technique. Harry grinned at Remus' surprise. Annwyl's casual movement had transformed his shabby robes into crisp, white fencing garb, complete with a mask, foil and floating target. Remus just stared.  
  
"Well, are you going to get to work or are you going to stand there gaping? I advise working, as that blank expression is exceedingly unflattering." Annwyl called, cheekily.  
  
Remus gave a mock groan and fell into a routine of footwork and lunges like Harry and the others had been doing all week. Harry knew it had been some time since Remus had had such an opportunity, but he was impressed by the older man's obvious grace and strength as he moved lightly back and forth.  
  
Thereafter, Remus joined them in the garden often. His work for the Order kept him away a fair amount, but he joined them as often as possible. Harry found these afternoon sessions very soothing. While he could immerse himself in the techniques, he could, to his surprise, focus himself and push away his worry over the attacks and his grief over Sirius. Even more valuable, perhaps, was the fact that he was too tired at night to have nightmares.  
  
Another week passed in this way with no new attacks or information regarding Voldemort's new tactics. Remus returned after a two day absence bringing a letter for Harry, Ron and Ginny from Hermione. Remus had taken a guard shift at the Granger's house and Hermione took the opportunity to send her letter back with him. Mostly, she wrote of the numerous books she had been reading, preparing for NEWT level courses in the coming year. She had earned 10 OWLs with none below an E and had already begun plotting out study schedules. Still, despite all her studying, she was bored and lonely.  
  
"...It's been lovely having a quiet summer with my parents, but I miss you all  
very much. Remus tells me you have all been learning to fence. I wish there was  
some way for me to join you. It must be loads of fun and Remus tells me it is very  
good for your concentration. Maybe, you all can teach me a few things when we  
get back to Hogwarts..."  
  
Later that evening, Remus invited Harry to join him in the garden after supper. Sitting on a stone bench, they watched as the stars began to appear in the twilight. After sitting in companionable silence for awhile, Remus, still looking at the stars began to speak.  
  
"Here it is, past the middle of August already, Harry. You'll be going back to school in less than two weeks and we've hardly had a chance to talk at all."  
  
Harry nodded. He was afraid Remus might want to talk to him about Sirius, but he wasn't sure he really wanted that. It had been so much easier to just keep pushing it back in his mind... but Remus was speaking again.  
  
"Wyl tells me you three have been doing well in your fencing lessons. She thinks she can have you begin some bouting tomorrow. I'm glad you're having this chance to fence, Harry. I want you to really make an effort to learn the mental focus Wyl is teaching you. I think it will help in your Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape this coming year."  
  
"My what?" Harry exclaimed in angry surprise. "You're joking, right? Dumbledore doesn't really expect me to go back to that... to Snape?"  
  
"I'm afraid he does," Remus sighed heavily. "Professor Snape is in the best position to know what sort of Legilimency techniques Voldemort favors, plus, Snape is quite adept. Of course, this time, Dumbledore intends to supervise more closely. Don't fret, Harry. I know you don't want this, but you really have to do it. If Voldemort is developing new techniques, you need to prepare some defenses."  
  
Harry didn't answer right away. He frowned thoughtfully at Venus shining brightly in the west. He then turned to look southeast at the brilliant red light which was Mars.  
  
"Mars is unusually bright..." he murmured. "Remus, why do you think my scar didn't hurt me during those attacks?"  
  
"There's been some speculation about that, Harry. Dumbledore believes, and I must say I think he's right, that Voldemort has found a way to block your connection to him, at least partially. However, what with blocking you and this whole soul-imposition magic, he must be draining his power pretty seriously. That could explain this long period of quiet since the Diagon Alley attack. That was a fairly big event. Voldemort must need time to recover before attempting anything like that again."  
  
Harry thought about this for a moment, then turned to another question that had been bothering him for days.  
  
"Remus, do you trust Annwyl?"  
  
It was Remus' turn to not answer immediately. He rose and walked a short way along the garden path and stood, his back to Harry, looking up at Mars, now the brightest point in that part of the sky.  
  
"I don't know. I want to trust her. I want to believe all she'd told us. Certainly, her information about Voldemort is proving accurate. Too accurate, maybe..." He turned to face Harry. "Once, I could trust Annwyl King with my life. Now... just be on your guard, Harry. Just for awhile and maybe, then, we'll know..."  
  
With that, they went back into the house, each lost in thought.  
  
That night, Harry tossed restlessly in his sleep. He awoke often, listening carefully in the darkness as if expecting to hear something unusual. There was only the quiet of the sleeping house - quiet, that is, aside from Ron's snores. Harry had to smile, even as he sighed in frustration. Why doesn't his nose hurt every morning?  
  
When Harry awoke for the seventh time, he saw the gray hint of dawn through the window. Rolling over and stuffing his head under his pillow, he gave one, last, valiant effort for sleep. The familiar vague prickling of his scar kept him restless. As uncomfortable as it had been, receiving Technicolor broadcasts of Voldemort's moments of intense emotion, it had, at least, the advantage of giving him some inkling of when something was happening. Now, he definitely felt, even more, at a disadvantage.  
  
Giving up on sleep at last, Harry dressed quietly and went to the kitchen. When Mrs. Weasley joined him a short while later, he had the table set and the tea steeping.  
  
"You're an early one this morning, Harry," Mrs. Weasley greeted him cheerfully. Then, seeing the dark circles under his eyes, said, "You've had a bad night. Anything the matter, dear?"  
  
"Nothing special, Mrs. Weasley, thanks. Just didn't sleep well is all."  
  
Despite a strong cup of tea, however, Harry still felt rather foggy from fatigue. The vague, faraway feeling persisted through the day. Annwyl frowned at his inability to concentrate that afternoon. As Remus had said she would, Annwyl began bouting with them, but even though he had looked forward to this very much, Harry was having too much trouble pulling himself together to really enjoy it.  
  
At dinner, Harry was particularly quiet, picking listlessly at his plate and paying little attention to conversations going on around him. Ron was watching him with a concerned look and finally spoke up.  
  
"Harry, what's wrong with you today, anyway? It's like you're on some other planet."  
  
Harry looked up, trying to focus on his friend's face but his eyes seemed to be playing tricks or something. His vision blurred and Ron's voice seemed to be coming from very far away. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but in that split-second a searing jolt of pain shot through Harry's scar, turning his words into an agonized cry. It was too much - his consciousness fled and slid into darkness.  
  
Harry found himself, to his great surprise, in the high street of Hogsmeade. It was early evening and there were people hurrying from one shop to the next, finishing last errands before returning home.  
  
He walked forward with the odd sensation that it hadn't been his decision to move at all. As he walked, he noticed four others, three men and a woman, fall into step on either side of him. They approached a small group of witches who stood, surrounded by shopping bags, chatting animatedly.  
  
To Harry's horror, he and his four companions barged directly into the group, grabbing the women by the shoulders and striking them with hands that had become, as Harry now saw, vicious-looking claws.  
  
Harry's mind recoiled and he could feel his stomach churning as he saw himself and the others biting and scratching the now helpless women. He realized that, even as his body continued the attack, his mind was forcing him to scream.  
  
NO! NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
With a wrenching sensation, Harry seemed to float backwards and away from the bloody fray. As his vision blurred and darkened, he saw bloody, wrestling groups scattered all around the street and the air was thick with the sounds of screaming and the metallic stench of blood.  
  
Slowly, Harry felt his body again, but he still didn't seem to have control over it. He was comfortable, however, so he cautiously opened his eyes. He was in his own bed in the room he was sharing with Ron. Mrs. Weasley was leaning over him, gently sponging his face with something that smelled wonderfully of ginger, clove and orange. Remus sat on the foot of the bed, watching anxiously. Mr. Weasley, Ron, Ginny and Annwyl were crowded in the doorway.  
  
"There now, dear, it's alright. Don't try to move just yet." Mrs. Weasley laid a gently restraining hand on Harry's shoulder as he tried, vainly, to stir.  
  
"What happened? How did I get here?"  
  
"You collapsed," Remus replied. "It must have been your scar because you were grabbing your forehead and yelling. Harry, did you have any sort of vision?"  
  
"I think so, but I can't really remember... My head hurts."  
  
"Harry," Mr. Weasley spoke from the door, "maybe after some rest, it'll come back to you. If you feel up to it, we can give your Contemplation Sphere a try, as well."  
  
Remus nodded agreement and rose from the bed, patting Harry's leg encouragingly. Wishing him well, they all turned to go, leaving only Mrs. Weasley in the room with Harry. She poured a glass of water from the decanter on the bedside table and added six drops of a bright purple liquid from a small vial.  
  
"Here, Harry. Drink this down now. It should help with that headache and let you relax." She helped Harry raise himself up enough to drink. "Now, just rest. We can talk about all this in the morning."  
  
Mrs. Weasley kept Harry in bed much of the next morning and really, he felt too worn out to argue much. However, by noon, Harry was feeling well enough to be getting restless. Fortunately, his improvement satisfied Mrs. Weasley and Harry was allowed to join the others at lunch.  
  
"Well, Harry," said Remus, "you're looking more yourself today. How's the memory?"  
  
Harry shook his head in answer. "I can't remember any of the vision, but I know there was one."  
  
"Dumbledore will be here after lunch," replied Remus. "When he gets here, I think we'll try Arthur's suggestion and use your Contemplation Sphere."  
  
The headmaster arrived as the table was being cleared. He greeted everyone pleasantly and gave Annwyl a fond hug, but his worry was plain to see.  
  
"Remus, Arthur, if you would be so good as to join me in the sitting room while Harry fetches his Contemplation Sphere, I believe we have much to discuss."  
  
Harry retrieved the sphere and returned to the sitting room. The three men waiting for him were very grim.  
  
"Harry," said Dumbledore, gently, "I realize this will be tiring for you and the memory of your vision is unlikely to be a pleasant one, but it is imperative that we know what you saw last night."  
  
Harry nodded and sat on a low stool facing the three men. Supporting the silvery ball on his outstretched palms, he gathered his concentration and spoke.  
  
"Memorarae last night's vision."  
  
The silver contents swirled and cleared, showing the Hogsmeade street as Harry had seen it. Harry felt all his horror and dread returning as the memory progressed. By the time the memory had played out and the sphere had faded back to the swirl of silver, Harry was pale and shaking. The three men facing Harry had watched the entire memory without comment. Arthur Weasley was the first to speak.  
  
"It looks as though Harry's vision of this attack was much like his vision of the attack on me last winter. I thought Voldemort was blocking Harry from this sort of thing."  
  
Harry looked questioningly at Dumbledore. "Then, this really happened."  
  
Dumbledore nodded somberly. "I take it you haven't seen this morning's edition of The Daily Prophet, Harry. To answer you, Arthur, I suspect that Voldemort's ability to block Harry diminishes when his power is heavily taxed. It seems he was manipulating at least fifteen soul- imposed victims last evening. Evidently, the power expenditure was too great for him to sufficiently block Harry. How does your scar feel today, Harry?"  
  
"It's throbbing some, sir, but nothing like last night."  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Well, my boy, I certainly appreciate your help. It has been... very enlightening. However, I can see that this has been a draining session for you. The Memorarae charm requires a great deal of the caster, I know. By the by, Arthur, I congratulate you and Molly and on the excellent charm casting. Harry's Contemplation Sphere is one of the most responsive I've ever seen. The clarity of image is extraordinary. Harry, I suggest you rejoin Mr. and Miss Weasley. They have, no doubt, completed their session with Annwyl by now and will be most impatient to see you."  
  
Harry rose and, nodding politely to the others, left the room. He considered lingering in the hallway outside the sitting room door, but figured Dumbledore would have anticipated that. Sure enough, the Everyflavor bean he pulled from his pocket and flicked at the door sailed right off, making no contact with the panels. So, Dumbledore had, in fact, set an Imperturbable Charm. Harry set off, instead, to find Ron and Ginny.  
  
They were still in the garden although the training session was over and Annwyl had left them. Ron lay in the shade of a tree, chewing a grass stem while Ginny was nearby with a textbook open before her. Ron sat up and beckoned eagerly when he saw Harry approaching.  
  
"Harry, there you are! Are you alright, mate? You look a bit peaky, you know?"  
  
"I'm okay," Harry answered, dropping down in the shade beside them. "Just sort of tired from that Memorarae charm and this headache."  
  
Harry proceeded to tell them all that had happened in his meeting with Dumbledore. However, when he began to describe the attack, Ron held up a hand.  
  
"You don't have to go through it again," he said with unexpected compassion. "It was like when you saw the attack on Dad, wasn't it?"  
  
Harry nodded, relieved that he would not have to relive that particular memory, yet again. Ginny had looked up from her book at the beginning of Harry's story and was staring at him, thoughtfully.  
  
"Ginny, what are you staring at?" Harry asked, irritably.  
  
"You were pretty tired yesterday," was her only answer.  
  
"Yeah, I was, so?"  
  
"I think I'm going to get Tonks or Remus to get a letter to Hermione."  
  
As she picked up her book and disappeared into the house, Ron and Harry just looked at one another and shrugged.  
  
Fatigue and the lingering headache sent Harry to bed early that evening, but he next day he resumed training with Annwyl and the others. He was glad for the discipline which prevented him dwelling on his memories of the Hogsmeade attack.  
  
After the initial report of the attack in the paper, there was nothing new to be said. As in the attack in Diagon Alley, no trace of the culprits had been found. In the absence of actual news, the paper was, again, resorting to wild theories regarding werewolf physiology. The latest suggestion was that werewolves were reacting to tides as well as the full moon.  
  
A week passed with still no new information. Mr. Weasley made the trip to Diagon Alley to get their school books and supplies since it didn't seem wise for Harry to be away from the protective wards of Order Headquarters. Harry was disappointed as it had been a couple of years since his last visit and he had been looking forward to seeing Fred and George's new shop, but he knew there wasn't any point in arguing.  
  
At last, it was the evening of August 31. Tomorrow, they would travel by portkey to a safe location outside London. From there, they would travel to King's Cross by muggle taxi. Remus had gone to the Granger's to be on hand to escort Hermione to platform 9 ¾ in the morning.  
  
Harry and Ron were in their room packing when Harry opened the package of books Mr. Weasley had brought from Flourish and Blotts.  
  
"Uh oh. Ron, I think your dad misunderstood," said Harry, holding up a Potions text. "I missed NEWT level Potions."  
  
"Well, then he misunderstood for me, too," replied Ron, brandishing his own copy of the text. "Let's go ask."  
  
They found Mr. Weasley in the sitting room and posed their question.  
  
"Ah, well," Mr. Weasley hemmed a bit. "You see there had to be a bit of a shuffle in the faculty. The headmaster had thought to bring Remus back to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, but with anti- werewolf sentiment growing greater than ever, well, you can imagine. Still, there needed to be a reliable person in the position, someone powerful, preferably a member of the Order. So, the headmaster appointed Professor Snape."  
  
"WHAT?" exclaimed both boys together.  
  
"Dumbledore's slipped a cog, Dad!"  
  
"Now, now," said Mr. Weasley soothingly, "I realize it takes some getting used to, but it solves some problems, really. Of course, there is a new Potions professor - Annwyl, in fact, and she accepts students with Es on their OWLs. So, there's your answer."  
  
"But, Mr. Weasley, why wouldn't Annwyl teach Defense? I mean, she was an auror and all," Harry objected.  
  
"Well, she'd been gone so long, you see. We can't really call her a member of the Order and it is such an important subject these days..."  
  
"Dad, don't you believe her story?" cut in Ron, bluntly.  
  
"I don't have and answer for you, Ron. I just don't know what to think."  
  
Harry thought for a moment. "Is she qualified to teach Potions?" He couldn't help worrying about the idea of Annwyl, someone not entirely trustworthy, coming to Hogwarts.  
  
"Oh, certainly. She's quite an able Potions brewer. Took top NEWTs, I understand. I'm sure she will do quite well."  
  
"So long as it isn't Transfiguration," Annwyl's voice spoke from the door behind them. "Or Divination, or Arithmancy either, for that matter." She gave a slight smile. "Probably ought to steer clear of History, as well. Well, at least it will be easy for the Order to keep and eye on me, this way." She held up a hand to stifle Mr. Weasley's polite objections. "Nonsense, Arthur. Of course, you'll be watching me. I expected nothing less. I just came in to say goodbye. I'm taking a portkey to Hogwarts tonight so I can get settled. Ron, Harry, I guess you'll have to get used to Professor King." She smiled a grim sort of smile and left them.  
  
Harry lay awake quite awhile that night. Tomorrow, he'd be back at Hogwarts, at last. However, Snape was finally getting his chance at the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, and the new Potions professor wasn't to be trusted any more than the previous one - probably less.  
  
Well, thought Harry, no one ever said it would be a quiet year. 


	6. Home to Hogwarts

Disclaimer: Please see previous chapters.  
  
Authors Notes: Isn't my beta reader, Moriah S., a marvel, folks? I am very grateful to her. I am grateful, too, for my reviewers. I promise a complete list every few chapters. I appreciate the encouragement.  
  
* * *  
  
HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND  
  
Chapter 6 - Home to Hogwarts  
  
Harry sat, watching the increasingly rugged scenery flash past the windows of the Hogwarts Express. Ron and Hermione were still in one of the forward carriages at a prefects' meeting, but Harry wasn't alone. Ginny and Dean Thomas sat in one corner of the compartment, Neville Longbottom across from them, talking over their summer holidays. Dean and his family had been to the East Indies and he had a stack of muggle photos of his trip. Luna Lovegood had drifted in, as well, although Harry hadn't exactly noticed when that happened. She was just, sort of, there, the ever-present copy of The Quibbler in hand. So, while Harry had plenty of company, he was sitting, instead, by the window, mulling over the start of a new school year.  
  
The day had begun predictably enough. At the Order Headquarters, Harry, Ron and Ginny had been up quite early, nibbling toast as they roamed the house, searching out last items and stowing them away in their trunks. As usual, there was a last, harried, sweep of the premises by Mrs. Weasley to gather odd socks and textbooks, followed by a nervous bustle to activate the portkey in time to get them all to the appointed spot before the muggle taxis arrived. Mr. Weasley and Tonks had both taken the day off to accompany them to King's Cross and Tonks, in one of her more spectacular displays of lack of coordination, dropped on end of Ginny's trunk just as it was being loaded into the boot of a taxi. Spell books, potions ingredients, and assorted odd-looking (at least, to muggle eyes) objects scattered across the ground, right at the feet of the startled taxi driver. A few remarks - not entirely convincing, Harry felt - to the effect that Ginny was studying drama and theater set design and the luggage was stowed at last.  
  
Arriving on platform 9 ¾ had been quite different from previous years. The first thing Harry saw as he came through the barrier was the line of Ministry Aurors checking over students, their families, and their luggage before allowing anyone to approach the train.  
  
"As if one of them might be smuggling You-Know-Who off to school among their textbooks," Tonks snorted. Ginny blanched just a bit.  
  
Harry turned to Mr. Weasley with a questioning look.  
  
"Just a precaution, Harry. Though really, I think it is more a show for the benefit of the parents. The Ministry has been receiving quite a few owls with various concerns about the students' safety."  
  
The second thing that struck Harry, quite literally, was a blurred tangle of brown hair that leaped from the steps of the train car, wrapping him and Ron in a crushing hug. The blur resolved itself into a very excited Hermione Granger.  
  
"Oh Ron! Harry! I'm so glad you're here at last. Remus and I have been waiting for ages. Hurry, get your things aboard. I've saved a compartment for us. The train's about to go and we've loads to catch up on."  
  
Harry looked around and finally located Remus Lupin in the bustle of the train platform. He stood a bit apart from the others and Harry was appalled to see more than one unfriendly look bestowed upon the quiet-faced man. Despite the looks, Remus stood impassively, head up and shoulders back. The innate dignity somehow made his robes seem less shabby, the premature lines on his face less harsh. Still, Harry thought he could see the slight clench of the jaw as yet another angry, suspicious look was cast Remus' way.  
  
With some last hugs, handshakes and admonitions to take care, they made it aboard the train as the final whistle blew. Stowing away their belongings in the compartment Hermione had saved, the two prefects hurried off to their meeting. Ginny, who seemed quite satisfied not to have been named a prefect, dropped into a seat with Dean and watched her departing brother with some sympathy.  
  
"Ugh. Can you imagine being stuck in a stuffy old meeting already? We haven't even got to school yet."  
  
Harry had noticed a change in the way his fellow students looked at him this year. As he had seen after The Daily Prophet published the Ministry's acknowledgment of Voldemort's return, many students were going out of their way, trying, a bit too hard perhaps, to show that they believed Harry and that he was, again, the Boy Who Lived - heroic in their eyes. Harry felt this was a sad omen for the coming year. The last thing he felt he wanted to face was an entirely new round of attention. People gawking at his scar was bad enough, but he really dreaded any questions of what had happened that night at the Department of Mysteries. So, he sat at the window of the compartment, brooding.  
  
The snack trolley was making its rounds by the time Ron and Hermione returned to them. Over a stack of cauldron cakes, they filled Harry in on the school news.  
  
"Security on the castle, this year, is as tight as I've ever seen it," said Hermione. "Even prefects will be taking one shift of patrol duty each week. Of course, the Head Boy and Girl will take more than that, despite their N.E.W.T. revision."  
  
"I'm not sure I feel safer knowing the prefects are patrolling. I mean, Malfoy is a prefect," Ron stated, his lip curling in disgust.  
  
"So, they've let him stay on, and as a prefect?" Ginny questioned indignantly from her corner.  
  
"Ginny," answered Harry, "you know how Dumbledore is. Until he shows up with a Dark Mark just like Daddy's, Malfoy stays a prefect."  
  
"I have a feeling we ought to keep our eyes on him, though," said Hermione. "He didn't have anything to say to anyone at the meeting. Not even an insult. He just sat and glared at everyone."  
  
"Of course, he glared," commented Luna, lowering her paper. "Just think how many of the students here have read all about his father being in Azkaban. You realize, too, that he blames us - Harry especially."  
  
Harry frowned at Luna. It had never been a secret that Malfoy and Harry didn't get on at all and it had been plain to Harry at the end of last term that Draco did, indeed, blame him for Lucius Malfoy's arrest. Still, Luna's calm, matter-of-fact tone in saying so grated on his nerves.  
  
There was quite a lot that Harry, Ron and Ginny wanted to tell Hermione about their summer - Annwyl King, werewolves, and the Order, but with Luna, Neville and Dean there with them, stories would have to wait. So, while the others chatted about their holidays, Harry settled back in his seat and dozed off.  
  
Harry was walking along a rather busy street. While nothing looked familiar to him, he knew, somehow, that this was an area of muggle London. It was late afternoon and people were leaving the shops and their jobs. As in Hogsmeade, Harry had several companions. They ignored the muggle passersby initially, but once they reached an open-air market, Harry and his companions paused. Looking around, they spotted an unusual figure at a nearby fruit stand.  
Harry tried to cry out a warning, for the figure was none other than Mundungus Fletcher. Just as Harry opened his mouth, a stab of pain struck his scar causing him to yell in shock and surprise. Vaguely, he saw Mundungus turn, wand drawn. Another figure was running to join him and Harry could almost swear it was Tonks. The pain was intense now and Harry sank to his knees as he felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him roughly...  
  
"...Harry, come on, mate! Harry, please..."  
  
"...Oh, Harry, please wake up! Oh please..."  
  
"Come on, Ron, help me get him up on the seat."  
  
Harry felt hands gripping him under the arms and hefting him from the floor to the seat. Forcing his eyes open against the dull throb in his head, he saw the blurry faces of Ron and Ginny leaning over him. Another blur which must have been Hermione reached forward, gently setting his glasses on his face. Harry blinked, bewildered, as the compartment came into focus.  
  
"Harry, was it another dream? You fell off the seat, screaming and holding your head. What was..." Hermione's sentence was cut off when the train lurched to an abrupt halt.  
  
Ron, Ginny and Hermione, standing in front of Harry, were thrown backward into the facing seats. Luna, Dean and Neville were tossed into a tangled heap on the floor. Groaning, all seven of them came to their feet.  
  
"Ron," said Hermione anxiously, "maybe we'd better go see what happened." She turned and headed toward the door.  
  
Ginny had her forehead pressed against the window, looking along the length of the train.  
  
"Hey! The train is being attacked! There are Death Eaters out there!" Ginny shrieked, whirling away from the window.  
  
"Come on!" yelled Harry, leaping for the door. "Grab as many of the D.A. Members as you can find."  
  
They burst into from the compartment and into bedlam. Students were screaming and trying to run, but the narrow corridor was really too packed for anyone to move very far. Signaling to Ron for a boost, Harry swung up on an outcropping of molding around a compartment window. It was a precarious hold, but it put him head and shoulders about the panicked crowd.  
  
"Sonorus," he whispered, wand directed at his throat. Then, raising his voice, Harry addressed the students. "Everyone, please! I need all D.A. Members in the corridor now. All others, please go back into the compartments and see that the doors and windows are locked."  
  
To Harry's surprise and relief, everyone obeyed without comment. He jumped down from his perch and, using his wand at his throat again, whispered, "Quietus." Looking at the ten D.A. Members now gathered around him, he did some quick planning.  
  
"Ginny, you and Ron come with me," Harry said. "We're going forward to secure as much of the train as possible. Hermione, take Dean and Luna and head toward the rear. Collect as many D.A. members as you can find as you go. Make sure doors and windows are locked and keep them that way. Hex anyone who doesn't look right to you and, for goodness sake, remember to use shield charms. The rest of you, stay here and make sure everything is well locked. In two minutes, half of you go after Hermione, Luna and Dean and the others follow after us. Right, let's move then."  
  
Wands drawn, Harry, Ron and Ginny ran forward through the carriage. Pausing at the door to the next carriage, Harry peered cautiously through the glass. There was chaos in the corridor, but he could see Ernie MacMillan and Hannah Abbot trying to lock doors and windows and send the more hysterical students back to their compartments. Waving and tapping on the glass caught Hannah's attention and she unlocked the door, letting them in.  
  
"Am I glad to see you three," she gasped as she relocked the door. "There are Death Eaters in the next car! We couldn't tell how many. Michael Corner, Susan Bones, and Cho Chang went forward as soon as the train stopped, but we haven't seen them since."  
  
Harry glanced around to the two pale, freckled faces staring back at him. He swallowed with difficulty and turned back to Hannah.  
  
"Right, then. You four stay here and keep everything locked. You should have some help in a moment. I'll go see what I can find farther forward."  
  
"WHAT? Harry, what are you saying?"  
  
"Have you gone completely round the twist?"  
  
"Absolutely not! Don't be a prat!"  
  
All three were arguing against Harry when Ernie approached. Quickly sizing things up, he put in his two knuts' worth.  
  
"We're wasting time. Harry, we're not letting you go alone, so everyone just stop yelling and let's get moving."  
  
Frowning, but not wanting to spend any more time in useless wrangling, Harry led the way to the door of the next carriage. Ducking low to avoid being seen, Harry and Ginny pressed their ears to the door, trying to hear what was going on inside. They weren't able to hear much aside from some muffled shouts and thumps. Ron risked a peek through the glass and gave a low whistle.  
  
"Fighting," he said. "At least five Death Eaters. Can't be sure. How do you want to go in?"  
  
"Well, it isn't as though we can take them much by surprise. The know how many of us are on the train," answered Ginny. "I say we just barge in and start hexing."  
  
The others merely nodded. With all wands at the ready, Harry reached out and flung the door wide. Ducking a few wild jets of light, all five of them charged forward.  
  
Harry could see that his schoolmates had been defending themselves with all they had, but despite being outnumbered, the Death Eaters' superior experience was allowing them to gain an advantage. While most of the younger students had backed into compartments as directed by upper years, the corridor and several open doorways were blocked by the bodies of unconscious students. At least, Harry hoped they were only unconscious...  
  
Ginny and Hannah raced forward, casting hexes and stunning spells as fast as they could gasp out the words. Harry swept along just behind, firing curses over their shoulders and shouting for both girls to get behind him. Ron and Ernie, each being considerable taller, brought up the rear, easily flinging spells over the others' heads.  
  
From the intensity of the fighting, Harry judged that the attackers had boarded the train at this carriage, planning to divide and go in opposite directions along the train. Indeed, they had pretty effectively cut a fair number of the passengers from reaching the other. What they hadn't reckoned on was the skill of some of the D. A. members. Harry allowed himself a fleeting moment of pride as he saw Hannah and Ginny, working together, bring down a Death Eater with a pair of particularly nasty hexes.  
  
Then, out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw another Death Eater make a run for the next car forward, Cho Chang right behind him. It suddenly occurred to Harry that he had seen no sign of the adults he knew to be in the first car of the train. There must have been at least two simultaneous attacks and one must have been on that first carriage. Since there were only two carriages forward from where they were now fighting, there must be a sizable number of Death Eaters just ahead. Harry ran after Cho, hindered by bodies and more fighting, shouting a warning. Ginny and Michael Corner must have had the same thought at the same moment, for as Harry finally made it to the door and flung himself into the next car, they were at his heels.  
  
Entering the corridor was like plunging into an ice bath. With a sickening flop in his stomach and an all too familiar buzzing in his ears, Harry realized they'd brought a dementor. Seeing Ginny and Michael dropping back, he called out to them.  
  
"Patronus! Summon a patronus!"  
  
Desperately trying to ignore the voices and images in his head - his mother's voice, Voldemort's horrible cackle, the image of Cedric's blank, lifeless eyes, the sight of Sirius falling back through the arch - Harry staggered forward, his sight blurring and darkening.  
  
His vision cleared for a split second and he nearly fainted at what he saw. Before him stood a tall, terrifying dementor, its hood pushed slightly back, its horrible, scaly hands gripping the shoulder and neck of a limp figure it raised to its face.  
  
Cho Chang.  
  
Harry heard the rattling intake of breath as he leveled his wand, bellowing, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!!!!"  
  
As his stag patronus leaped toward Cho, another silver patronus sped from the opposite end of the corridor. It was a great hawk-like beast with a dragon tail, a powerful hawk body and wings, and a dragon head. Both silver beats charged the dementor which dropped its prey and disappeared.  
  
Then, in a flurry of popping sounds, the car was full of Ministry aurors and medical personnel. Wild flashes of spells and more popping and suddenly, it was quite still. Three Death Eaters lay stunned on the floor. The others appeared to have escaped.  
  
Harry hardly knew how, but he managed to reach Cho where she lay in the center of the car. She was lying, looking straight up, her eyes vacant and her jaw slack. Michael, who was still at Harry's side, dropped to his knees beside her.  
  
"Cho?... Please look at me... Cho?"  
  
On Harry's other side, Ginny turned away, hands to her face and shaking with choking sobs. From the other direction, Annwyl King stepped forward. Harry's mouth dropped.  
  
"Hhh... how... where...?"  
  
"I sensed trouble," Annwyl said, simply.  
  
"Was that your patronus then?" Harry asked.  
  
She nodded in answer. Kneeling down beside Michael, she placed a gentle arm on his shoulders, drawing him away from Cho.  
  
"I'm sorry," she whispered.  
  
A ministry medi-witch approached at that moment. Looking down at Cho, her eyes grew wide.  
  
"Oh Merlin... has she... has she been..."  
  
"Kissed," Annwyl said, her voice flat. "Yes, she has. And, I'm afraid this young man," she gestured at Michael who was staring dazedly at Cho, "is slipping into shock."  
  
"Oh... I've never..." The medi-witch shook herself and regained some composure. "I'll tend to them both. Perhaps you had best see these other two away from here. Please be sure they both eat some of this." She handed Annwyl a slab of chocolate and turned to Michael.  
  
Annwyl rose and, taking Harry and Ginny each by the arm, led them back along the train. They passed medical people reviving students, healing numerous minor injuries and feeding everyone chocolate.  
  
When they reached their own compartment, Ginny turned in automatically and slumped into a seat. Harry walked straight to the window and stared out, unseeing, his mind whirling.  
  
And another one gone...  
  
Wordlessly, Annwyl broke apart the chocolate and handed some to each of them. Ginny ate, quite unconscious of her actions, while Harry just stood, chocolate melting in his hand, staring out the window.  
  
Sounds behind him told him the others were returning. Ron was limping a bit from a newly mended sprain and Hermione sported a good-sized plaster on her left shoulder which was, evidently, mending a cut. The others, though exhausted and frightened, seemed unharmed.  
  
Ron exclaimed at seeing Annwyl and introduced her to Hermione, Dean, Luna and Neville. He then asked the question Harry had begun before.  
  
"Annw... er, Professor, how did you get here? I thought you were at the castle."  
  
"I was," she replied, "but I got a bad feeling. So, I grabbed my broom and came along to find the train."  
  
Why didn't you just apparate?" asked Neville.  
  
"I didn't know exactly where you were. The train was moving after all. Well, you can't apparate without a precise location, so I followed the tracks until I reached the train."  
  
While speaking, Annwyl rose and looked down the corridor in each direction.  
  
"It looks as though the Ministry will soon have you underway again and with some aurors to accompany you. Since they will be here, I shall certainly not be needed. In light of this, I believe it would be best for me to report to the headmaster. You should be reaching the school in under two hours. Until then..." With a pop, Annwyl disapparated.  
  
"Ron," Luna spoke, turning her overlarge eyes on him, "why did you call her Professor? Is she the new Defense teacher? How do you know her?"  
  
"Er," Ron searched for a plausible story and Ginny spoke up, saving him.  
  
"We don't know if she's the Defense professor, actually. Ron, Harry and I met her over the summer. She's someone my dad knows. We were just told to call her Professor."  
  
"What did she mean when she said she had a bad feeling?" questioned Hermione thoughtfully. "She must have left Hogwarts before the attack even began. How do you suppose she really knew about it?"  
  
Just then, two aurors entered and requested statements from them all. Harry learned the others had experiences similar to his own up until the encounter with the dementor. As he and Ginny told their version of events, the others gasped, not having already heard about Cho. Hermione's eyes were blurred by tears and Ginny's voice cracked as she spoke. Dean put a comforting arm around her shoulders and, for once, Ron was too distracted to notice.  
  
Harry was surprised and rather appalled at how little he seemed to be feeling. There was no pain, no horror, no rage - only a flat, empty sensation. His own reason told him it was the effect of shock, but he was not soothed by the notion. He felt quite vacant.  
  
There was very little journey left by this time, and schools robes were donned in almost total silence. Only after they were seated again did Hermione speak.  
  
"Harry, what form did Professor King's patronus take?"  
  
Harry described the strange dragon-hawk and she frowned in thought.  
  
"Oh, that's an Aresean Hawk," supplied Luna, conversationally. "They are quite rare and powerful, but not very nice, actually."  
  
"They are rare," said Hermione impatiently, "because they are completely mythical, even in the magical world. The Aresean Hawk or Dragon Hawk was the special pet of Ares, the Greek god of war. Ares was said to have sent it into battle before the Greek armies as sort of advance guard. Instead of fire, it breathed a pestilence and its tail was tipped with poisonous barbs."  
  
"I don't remember ever hearing that before," remarked Dean.  
  
"That's because it is a load of skrewt droppings even by mythological standards," Hermione replied. "I can't imagine why her patronus would take that form."  
  
"Wait," said Harry, "didn't the Romans give Ares another name?"  
  
"Yes, they called him Mars."  
  
* * *  
  
It was a particularly subdued group that wended its way up to the castle an hour later. Hagrid, obviously shaken by the news of the attack, had done his best to be very gentle with the bedraggled, quaking first years. Unfortunately, even a kindly, gentle Hagrid could be quite alarming and Harry saw several weeping openly as they climbed into the boats for their trip across the lake.  
  
Harry couldn't remember the Great Hall so quiet at a Sorting Feast. True, people were talking, but it was not the laughing chatter on would expect to hear. Rather, it was an anxious hum of murmurs and whispers. As he took his seat at the Gryffindor table next to Ron and Hermione, Harry noticed Michael Corner was not in the Hall. Several others were missing as well, and he figured they must be in the hospital wing with Madame Pomfrey.  
  
The faculty was whispering, as well. Professors Sinistra and Vector were in close conversation while Madame Hooch and Professor Sprout whispered alternately with Professor Flitwick. Professor Snape, Harry noticed, spoke to no one, but glared around the Hall, his angular face drawn into a frown. Annwyl King sat at one end of the table, somewhat apart, not speaking, her face unreadable. Dumbledore was silent also, watching the students file into the Hall.  
  
At last, Hagrid appeared at his place at the table and Professor McGonagall rose to bring in the first year class. She reentered carrying a stool and the battered Sorting Hat, a line of still very frightened-looking students trailing behind. Once the hat had been placed on the stool there was a brief but weighty silence. Then a rip opened along its brim and the hat began its song.  
  
Far too many years ago For me to truly count, Two witches and two wizards A mighty quest did mount. They sought to build a magic school, A haven for those gifts Which, when trained with skill and care and heart Were sure our world would lift. Badger, eagle, lion, snake, Their value each did show For traits of spirit, soul and skill By which, their students, know. The loyal and kind would labor For sweet Hufflepuff, But Slytherin, he did require His be of sterner stuff. To ambition and cunning, he did incline Though others sought them not. Fair Ravenclaw, the intellect Her attention always caught. Bold Gryffindor, he plunged right in, Took to himself to teach Those ones who did not fear to tread, Who leapt into the breach. And though the Founders, gone, may be, Their passions do not fade And I am here to sort you For the houses must be made. But, yet again, I warn you As I have done before. Destruction looms if we divide And friendships grow no more. So, though I sort you into groups And set these groups apart, I bid you all to cling together - One Hogwarts' beating heart. For danger lurks and with it choices, Choices hard to make. Though the easy way may draw you, Our lifeblood, it will take. In mind be strong, in heart be true And darkness, follow not. For if you choose despair and pain Then, ruin be our lot. And now, I'll tell you where you'll be Just where you ought to dwell. But, pledge to let your heart be guided By Life's greatest binding spell.  
  
Harry didn't even hear the first years being sorted. He was vaguely aware that the sorting was not the raucous celebration it generally was. Instead, he was caught in a burning whirl of anger at the Sorting Hat's words.  
  
Choices, he thought bitterly, what choice was Cho, or any other person on that train, given? And Sirius - coming out of hiding to protect his godson wasn't the easy way, yet ruin was certainly the result. So, what hope have any of us got?  
  
Harry was pulled from his painful musings when he felt a hand on his arm. Turning, Harry met Hermione's eyes fixed on him with concern. Somehow, she must have guessed what he'd been thinking.  
  
"Harry, I... oh, Harry...," she whispered, tears swimming in her eyes.  
  
He didn't answer, but covered her hand with his and, with a gentle squeeze, removed it from his arm. He then looked away toward Dumbledore who had risen to speak. Seeing the old headmaster, Harry remembered the suffering on the lined face the night of Annwyl's return. The pain was just as plain to see now, but, perhaps due to his own shock and anguish from the horrors of the day, Harry was unable to feel anything for his professor. He realized it with a dull sort of dread.  
  
"I will dispense with the welcoming this evening," said Dumbledore sadly, "and, instead, attempt to express my heartfelt gratitude to have you, at last, safe within these walls and my sincere sorrow and sympathy for the fear and pain you have experienced. For tonight, I think we will all be the better for some food and some sleep. The rest may keep until tomorrow."  
  
With that, the tables filled with a magnificent repast to which no one was actually able to do justice. The dinner was as brief as it was quiet. In a very short time, the Hall emptied and the prefects led their houses off to their common rooms.  
  
Harry was halfway to Gryffindor tower when he remembered the dream he'd had on the train. The attack had driven it from his thoughts almost completely. He separated himself from some other students and took a shortcut which would lead him toward Dumbledore's office. Although it was very much in the past already, Harry supposed the headmaster would want to know. He was in the corridor outside the Defense classroom when he heard the voice of one he most definitely did not want to encounter. Professor Snape was just around the corner and, though no words were discernible, it seemed he wasn't alone, nor was he happy. Harry was just about to backtrack to another, albeit, less direct route, to see Dumbledore when he caught the other voice. The voice of Annwyl King caused Harry to tiptoe cautiously forward, listening intently.  
  
"I am not answerable to you, Professor," Annwyl said coldly.  
  
"You are mistaken, Professor King. As a member of the Order - in good standing, might I add - it is my inarguable duty to look into any suspicious happenings related to the attack on the Hogwarts Express. Inasmuch as your behavior was quite suspicious, you are, indeed, subject to my questioning. Now, tell me how you happened to reach the train before even the Ministry was aware of any trouble."  
  
"Professor Snape, I am sure you have already been made aware of my ability to sense highly emotionally charged events. When I feel such a thing, I tend to act upon it promptly."  
  
"Have you a similar passel of hogwash to explain the highly unusual patronus you conjured?" Snape growled.  
  
"Really, Professor, as the instructor in Defense Against the Dark Arts, you are aware that one is not able to choose the form of one's patronus. It comes from within. I trust you are capable of plotting a star chart for the date of my birth - which information I am equally certain you might easily obtain. With Mars playing such a distinct role in my chart, my corporeal patronus cannot really surprise you. Now, if you will excuse me..." Harry heard Annwyl's steps disappearing down the corridor.  
  
Garbled, angry mutterings told Harry that Snape was still just around the corner, so he backed away as quietly as possible, anxious to avoid an encounter with an angry Snape. Harry had nearly reached the junction of another corridor which would lead him safely away when the huge sound of someone blowing a very rude raspberry echoed weirdly off the stone walls. Peeves hovered just above him, grinning wickedly. Not waiting to see if the noise would draw Snape, Harry ran pell-mell down the adjoining corridor.  
  
Several turns and shortcuts later, Harry felt he'd come far enough for safety. However, any further efforts to reach Dumbledore seemed foolhardy. Harry stood thinking hard. He could find Professor McGonagall. Surely, no one would question it if he was looking to speak to his head of house. He could tell her and she could take him to Dumbledore.  
  
Reaching her office a few moments later, Harry raised his hand to knock, but before his knuckles contacted the heavy panels, the door swung wide.  
  
"It is late for you to be roaming the school, Potter," said Professor McGonagall from her seat before her desk. "Well, come in. I assume you aren't walking for your health."  
  
Harry stood before her desk and poured out his story.  
  
"So, I thought I'd better try to see the Headmaster, Professor," he finished. "Since I didn't want to be out-of-bounds, I thought maybe you could take me to his office."  
  
"That will not be possible tonight," she answered. "Professor Dumbledore has been called away on business. He left word that he wished to see you immediately after breakfast tomorrow."  
  
Disappointed, Harry nodded. "May I go up to Gryffindor tower, then?"  
  
"Yes, of course. Do not be alarmed, Potter. I shall certainly pass along what you have told me."  
  
Upon reaching the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry found an anxious Ron waiting.  
  
"Harry! Where in bloody hell have you been? Hermione is about ready to organize a search party." He turned to the portrait, a firm grip on Harry's sleeve.  
  
"Dog star," he declared and the portrait swung wide. Harry winced.  
  
"That's the password?"  
  
"Yeah... oh! Bugger. Harry, do you want me to ask the Fat Lady to change it?"  
  
Harry shook his head and climbed through to the common room. Once inside, he was nearly knocked flat by Hermione, demanding, wildly, where he had been. As quickly as he could, he told what had happened.  
  
"I didn't want to chance another run-in with Peeves, so I talked to McGonagall and then came back here," Harry finished. "I'll see Dumbledore tomorrow. It can't really matter now since whatever happened must be long over."  
  
Professor Snape and Professor King certainly aren't getting along," remarked Hermione. "Dumbledore didn't even announce she'd be teaching Defense, but I guess Snape already knows. No wonder he's so foul to her."  
  
"Actually," said Harry, looking around to see if they could be overheard, "she isn't the Defense professor. Snape is. Professor King will be taking Potions."  
  
"We didn't think Dumbledore would want us telling anyone before he announced it. With everyone else on the train with us, we never had a chance to tell you," Ron said apologetically.  
  
"Look, Hermione," said Harry, noting the hurt look on her face, "I promise we'll tell you everything tomorrow, but it is just too late tonight." He stifled a large yawn.  
  
All three trudged up the stairs to the dormitories. Too exhausted to worry about whether or not he'd dream, Harry flopped into his four- poster and fell promptly to sleep.  
  
* * *  
  
Harry was disappointed again, however, at breakfast the next morning. Professor McGonagall handed him a message saying that his meeting with the Headmaster was delayed until further notice to allow more time for fact gathering (whatever that meant). Seeing his downcast expression, Professor McGonagall gave him an encouraging nod before leaving.  
  
A moment later, Professor Dumbledore made the announcement about the new Defense and Potions professors. Throughout the Hall, there were a few gasps and quite a bit of whispering. Dumbledore made some patting motions in the air and the sound subsided.  
  
"I invite you all to join me in welcoming Professor King and trust you will make her sojourn with us a pleasant one," he said. This was met by scattered polite applause.  
  
"There are a few other matters," Dumbledore continued and went on to make his usual remarks regarding the Forbidden Forest ("Still, quite forbidden!"), no magic in the corridors, and Filch's list of 953 prohibited objects and substances. Then, his light tone changed.  
  
"I understand a number of you have had questions about yesterday's events and the welfare of your injured classmates. First, let me assure you that Madame Pomfrey is so well satisfied with their progress that she anticipates they will rejoin us by lunchtime. There are, to my great sorrow, two exceptions. Mr. Corner, having bravely put himself forward to defend his classmates, is still recovering from shock. We hope to see him among us again soon. Miss Chang, I regret, will not return to us. Having suffered a dementor attack, she has been placed in permanent residence at St. Mungo's. It should be noted that her bravery and skill in conjuring a patronus several times before she was attacked, was the direct saving of nine of her fellow students. Please rise and join me in honoring Cho Chang."  
  
Harry's mind reeled as the whole school rose and rumbled in one voice, "Cho Chang." His thoughts flipped back to the leaving feast after the Triwizard Tournament when they rose to remember Cedric Diggory. His throat constricted painfully.  
  
How many more? How many innocent lives must be taken or shattered?  
  
Harry heard nothing after that and hardly even noticed as Professor McGonagall handed out their schedules. It wasn't until he was on his way to Transfiguration with Ron and Hermione that he began to take note of their excited chatter.  
  
"What in the world are you two on about?" Harry asked.  
  
"Harry, didn't you hear any of Dumbledore's speech?" exclaimed Ron. "He said that since the success of the D.A. was so evident during yesterday's attack on the train, the whole school should have the chance for that kind of training. So, he is reinstating a defense club. And, get this - Snape and Professor King will run it together. Can you believe it?"  
  
"Well, they didn't seem to be too happy to be working together," commented Hermione. "I guess we'll see tomorrow night at the first meeting."  
  
If Harry thought his O.W.L. Preparations had been difficult, it wasn't long before he realized that had been a cakewalk compared to N.E.W.T. preparation. The first day of classes was Transfiguration and Herbology in the morning with double Charms in the afternoon. By dinnertime, Harry and the other sixth year Gryffindors were seated at their house table, moaning over the homework the professors had liberally assigned that day.  
  
"I hope this Professor King will teach us how to brew an energizing potion," Parvati Patil whined.  
  
"Well, if she does, brew some for me, won't you?" replied Seamus. "I can't believe I have Binns' N.E.W.T. level history to sit through. I'd sleep, but he actually pays attention to his N.E.W.T. classes."  
  
Despite all the homework waiting for them, Harry, Ron and Hermione managed to find a quiet corner of the library after dinner to bring Hermione up to speed on all that had been happening. Harry even brought his Contemplation Sphere so Hermione could see the Order meeting. The sphere impressed her almost as much as all they had to tell her.  
  
"Wow," she breathed, examining the silver ball carefully, "this is really impressive. The charms to make one of these are quite difficult. Ron, your parents are wonderful."  
  
Harry toppled into bed that night, once again, too tired to spare a thought for dreams. He did wonder what facts Dumbledore might be gathering, but before he could properly think it over, he was asleep.  
  
* * *  
  
Harry's first class the next morning was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Although he knew this was one area in which he excelled, Harry dreaded dealing with Snape. He was so wrapped up in his concern over the class, he didn't even notice Professor McGonagall at the front of the room until he was seated.  
  
"As you have all observed," she began, "Professor Snape is not with us today. He has, however, left a reading and essay assignment for you. Several of you are able to conjure a patronus, but none of you have studied the theory behind the spell. You are to study what your text says concerning this and write a two foot parchment on how one may strengthen the patronus and even direct it. It will be due in one week. You may begin."  
  
Although Harry tried to concentrate on his work, his mind kept wandering back to Snape. He had seemed fit enough at dinner last evening, so illness seemed unlikely. Had Voldemort summoned him? Had Dumbledore sent him to gather information about the attack on the students? For a moment, Harry considered asking Professor McGonagall after class. However, one good look at her furrowed brow made him think better of it and seemed to confirm the suspicion that Snape was on Order business.  
  
That afternoon was the first Potions class for the sixth year N.E.W.T. students. As whenever there had been a new teacher, the room hummed in anticipation. Harry had to admit that Annwyl was an imposing figure, despite her small stature. Like Snape, she favored black robes and instead of entering her classroom in the usual way, she waited until all were seated and just sort of detached from some dark shadows in one corner and glided to the rostrum. It was a bit unnerving to think she had been there all the while.  
  
Aside from her unorthodox entrance, Annwyl was a straightforward, no nonsense professor. With very little fuss, she soon had them brewing a strengthening solution. It was review work, but she wanted to see their technique. Throughout class, she glided up and down between desks, observing them carefully.  
  
As they were clearing up to go, she stepped to the rostrum to address them.  
  
"You should all remember that tonight will be the first meeting of the new defense club. All are encouraged to attend and promptness is required. You have a question, Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
Harry realized with a start that they had been in class a full ninety minutes and there had been no snide remarks from Draco Malfoy. Such a thing had never happened before and instead of being a pleasant surprise, Harry found it made him wonder what the slimy ferret was up to.  
  
"Well, Professor," came the drawling voice from the back of the room, "surely you don't plan on having a defense club meeting without the Defense professor. I understand he is away today."  
  
"While it would be desirable for our Defense professor to join us," Annwyl answered coolly, "it is not desirable to delay the training. We shall meet this evening. Class dismissed."  
  
After Annwyl's warning in class, no one dared be late and by 7:25 that evening, it looked as if most of the school had gathered in the Great Hall. As when Lockhart had offered a dueling club, the long house tables had been moved against the walls creating a large open space in the center. In this space, everyone stood, griping wands and looking about expectantly.  
  
When Annwyl arrived a moment later, Harry, Ginny and Ron were the only ones not surprised by her appearance. She was in her white fencing gear and carried a bag which clanked as if containing some muggle weapons. Setting down her bag, she addressed the group.  
  
"In Defense, it is vitally important that one's mind be as much under one's control as one's body. Further, both must work smoothly together for where one may be weak, the other may compensate. To achieve this end, we shall begin with a muggle sport known as fencing. It is uniquely suited to the sort of mental focus I desire to see in each of you."  
  
With that, she moved around the Hall, transfiguring clothing, conjuring weapons and showing everyone the basic footwork. Before long, they were all at work, striking their floating targets. Harry noticed that, despite the sneer on Malfoy's face as Annwyl worked with him and several other Slytherins, Malfoy was as intent on the footwork as any of them. Hermione was thrilled and Ginny worked between her and Dean, giving them all the pointers Annwyl had given them over the summer.  
  
They had been working for an hour and a half and Annwyl was transfiguring everyone's clothes back to school robes when Severus Snape entered the room. His sallow face was contorted in a disgusted sneer.  
  
"Professor King, what is the meaning of this? I understood from the Headmaster that you were conducting a defense club meeting. Instead, I find you wasting time with your foolish muggle foot shuffling and hopping about with these ridiculous oversize pins." He eyed a foil with distaste.  
  
"Professor Snape," Annwyl replied with icy calm, "that was hardly your diplomatic best. I shall be happy to discuss this with you when our meeting is adjourned." Turning to the students, she said, "I expect that you will continue our footwork drills throughout the week. Special equipment is not required for this. You are dismissed."  
  
The students filed from the Hall, but when Harry, Ron and Hermione reached the corridor, Harry held the other two back. Waiting until Ginny and Dean had turned the corner, Harry reached into his book bag and drew out his invisibility cloak.  
  
"I was thinking about sneaking down to see Hagrid. I think this will still cover all three of us if Ron hunches down. Let's see what Snape and Professor King are doing."  
  
Under the cloak, they crept back through the door and huddled against the wall. Annwyl was back in her teaching robes, her weapons (favorites having belonged to her father and kept in storage for some years, she had explained earlier) packed in her bag. She stood facing Snape, her eyes snapping sparks.  
  
"Snape, I'll not be bullied before the students. If you expect to intimidate me, you'll find you are dealing with more than you bargained for."  
  
"Oh, I do beg your pardon," Snape hissed. "Perhaps, you'd prefer to settle this your own way." He flicked his wand and his swirling black robes were replaced by trim-fitting black trousers and a white linen shirt. "Rapiers, King?" A shining weapon appeared in his hand.  
  
Annwyl did not answer but transfigured her robes to pants and a shirt not unlike Snape's. Raising her hand and wand, she spoke.  
  
"Accio, rapier."  
  
A weapon flew out of her bag and zoomed to her outstretched hand, glittering murderously.  
  
"Your terms, Snape?"  
  
"First blood."  
  
"Very well," she said, saluting him with her blade. "En garde."  
  
He returned her salute and readied himself. With a nod, they began.  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione drew a collective gasp as they watched the two professors. They did not limit themselves to the linear, back and forth footwork the students had been learning. Now, they circled and moved about, looking for all the world like dancers. Harry was astonished to see how comfortable Snape appeared in such a bout.  
  
The blades flashed in the torchlight, the sound of their footsteps punctuated by the clash and whispers of steel on steel. Several times there were close calls which were parried in a nick of time. Suddenly, there was a scrape of blades and Snape's rapier lay on the floor at Annwyl's feet. Faster than Harry's eye could track, she had disarmed him. Now, she stood, the point of her blade directed at Snape's throat.  
  
"First blood, was it not?" she asked in a silken snarl.  
  
Her blade flicked up and before he could react, Snape's left cheek was marked with a thin, red line. A second later, a drop of blood ran down, glaring against the sallow skin.  
  
Without another word, Annwyl retrieved her bag, swept past where the three were huddled under the invisibility cloak, and out of the Hall. Snape stared after her, unmoving, a thin trail of blood coursing down his cheek. 


	7. Getting On

Disclaimer: Please see previous chapters.  
  
Author's Notes: Thanks, as always, to Moriah S. for being a great beta. Thanks also to my reviewers who are the best! - MiriamG, mrs-osborne's- class, Amanda, Chris(Keyca), Wind Whisperer, Anime Elvengirl, Mitch, Sword Wielder (Firebreath), and Tessa66. Regretfully, I must alter my update schedule. Look for new chapters about every two weeks. The house elves are threatening to take hats from Hermione if I don't stop leaving loose plot threads all over the place. I'll need the extra writing time to keep track of them all. Thanks for reading! _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND  
  
Chapter 7 - Getting On  
  
Still crouched under Harry's invisibility cloak, the trio stared at one another in astonishment. Seeing that Hermione was about to speak, Harry clapped his hand over her mouth.  
  
"No sound," he hissed quietly. "Just wait."  
  
Hermione and Ron nodded their understanding and all three looked back at Snape.  
  
Snape had been standing motionless, unmindful of the blood which ran down from the cut on his cheek. The vague look of surprise on his face was rapidly changing to one of loathing. With an angry mutter, his clothes changed back to the customary black robes. Pulling a linen handkerchief from a pocket, he gave his cheek an impatient swipe as he charged out of the room. Harry leaned carefully out the door, being sure to keep his head under the cloak. Snape was disappearing down the stairs toward the dungeons.  
  
"Okay," Harry whispered. "Let's get back up to the common room. We'd better go slowly so we can all stay under the cloak. Right, together, then, and carefully..."  
  
Three people walking under on invisibility cloak had never been an easy proposition, but now that Ron had grown so tall (and, really, Harry wasn't so much behind as in the past), it was nearly impossible. They had to stop every few meters to readjust the cloak since someone's foot always ended up poking out from under. Poor Hermione, as smallest of the three, was stuck in the middle where she was certain of having both feet squashed by careless steps. It was with enormous relief that they finally made it to the Fat Lady's portrait.  
  
Once in the common room, their luck seemed to be holding. Very few students remained downstairs. Only two or three small groups were still studying at tables. Choosing some armchairs on the far side of the hearth, away from the others, Harry, Ron and Hermione spoke in hushed tones.  
  
"I can't believe the professors were dueling!" Hermione began. "I knew they weren't exactly getting on together, but honestly!"  
  
"And dueling for blood," added Harry.  
  
"What I don't get," said Ron, thoughtfully, "is why she marked him after she disarmed him. I mean, once he lost his weapon, it was over, right? She struck an unarmed opponent!"  
  
All three were quiet for a moment, considering this. Then, Harry looked up.  
  
"She sort of makes a habit of this, you know?" he said and told of Annwyl's duel with the mouthy Hufflepuff, years before.  
  
"Hothead," remarked Ron. "No wonder she and Snape are always at each other. I think they'd hate each other even if neither one of them had suspicious pasts."  
  
"I'd like to know exactly what happened with that other student," Hermione agreed. "I wonder what became of him."  
  
At that moment, there was a tap at the nearby window. Hermione rose to let in the small screech owl waiting on the sill. It darted through the casement, dropped a parchment on Harry's lap, then wheeled sharply, passing out the window again.  
  
Opening it, Harry saw familiar, loopy handwriting.  
  
It would be most desirable that we meet promptly. Please join us immediately after breakfast, tomorrow, in my office.  
  
It was unsigned but Harry would have known that handwriting anywhere. It seemed Dumbledore had gathered his facts. He handed the message across to Ron and Hermione.  
  
"What do you reckon? Should I tell Dumbledore about Snape and Annwyl dueling?"  
  
Ron frowned in thought, then nodded slowly.  
  
"You know, I'd seriously consider it. They were literally out for one another's blood." He nodded again, more decisively. "Yeah, Harry, I think I'd tell him."  
  
To Harry's surprise, Hermione did not agree.  
  
"I know it was horrible that she actually cut him after he was disarmed - as if dueling at all wasn't bad enough - but they are of age and dueling is legal in the wizarding world. Technically, they didn't do anything wrong. Besides, isn't Professor King Dumbledore's goddaughter? Maybe she'll have told him herself."  
  
"I guess I'll wait and not say anything," Harry decided at last. "If it seems like it might be important, then I will tell him. But, if it doesn't have anything to do with what Dumbledore wants to talk about, I'll keep my mouth shut."  
  
"Harry, who do you suppose Dumbledore meant when he said you should 'join us'?" Ron asked, pointing to the message.  
  
Harry shrugged by way of answer and gave a sour look at his book bag.  
  
"Dunno. I'll find out soon enough. Right now, I guess I'd better get going on that patronus essay for Snape. No point in getting him all snarked off at me this early in the term."  
  
* * *  
  
Later that night, Harry was yanked from a sound sleep and sat bolt upright in bed. He hadn't drawn the bed hangings tightly shut and the cold light of the nearly full moon streamed across his bed. He held his breath, listening, trying to figure out what had awakened him so suddenly. Other than Ron and Neville's customary nasal duet, the dorm was silent. He peered out cautiously from his hangings but saw nothing. He didn't even feel anything from his scar.  
  
Harry rose and went to the window. Moonlight illuminated the castle grounds, giving everything a bleached, ghostly appearance. Nothing moved. He faced back into the room, looking around carefully for any sign of anything that might have been responsible for rousing him. Nothing. He saw five identical four posters, an identical trunk at the foot of each. There were five wardrobes and five bedside stands. He saw the usual five carafes of water on those tables... wait. He looked again at the carafe on his own stand. No, he wasn't imagining it. It had been moved. Harry noticed only because it was nearly pushing his Charms text onto the floor.  
  
Lifting the carafe carefully, Harry placed a sealing charm on it. Confident that it was now spill-proof, he tucked it into a corner of his trunk. Tomorrow, he would take it with him to Dumbledore's office. Harry could almost hear Moody's growl about trusting nothing to chance. Tonight, he felt the cagey old auror had a point.  
  
Harry was up early the next morning, as he hadn't really slept much after the disturbance anyway. He dressed quietly and slipped his sealed carafe into his book bag. He glanced at Ron's bed where the hangings were still drawn. Deciding to leave him to his rest, Harry headed downstairs alone.  
  
To his relief, the common room was still empty at this hour. Going straight to the portrait hole, Harry climbed out and turned to address the Fat Lady.  
  
"Er, excuse me, but could you tell me if anyone went in or out of our common room last night?"  
  
"Oh, now, deary," giggled the Fat Lady with a wink, "that would be telling tales, that would!"  
  
"I'm not trying to get anyone in trouble," assured Harry earnestly, "but it might be important."  
  
The genial expression faded as the portrait looked at Harry shrewdly.  
  
"Well, deary, seeing as it's you and all... There were only two and they were out and back by half-past twelve. The first was that friend of yours, Miss Granger. Just a few minutes behind her was Mr. Weasley."  
  
Harry's jaw dropped slightly but he managed a feeble thank you before turning to head down to breakfast. Ron and Hermione were out and he didn't know? Neither had asked to borrow the cloak or the Marauder's Map. Well, when they came down to breakfast, Harry would have some questions for them.  
  
Harry hadn't been at breakfast long before Ron and Hermione joined him. Ron began some good natured grumbling about Harry not waiting for him but stopped abruptly when he saw his friend's face.  
  
"Hey, mate, you know, you don't look so good. Didn't you sleep last night?"  
  
Harry shook his head and looked around. The Gryffindor table was still only ¾ full and no one sat very close by. Lowering his voice, he explained what had happened during the night.  
  
"On my way down, I asked the Fat Lady if anyone had gone through the portrait hole," Harry continued, looking carefully at his friends. He was pleased to note that Hermione had the grace to blush slightly. "She told me there had been only two - you, in fact."  
  
"Bugger," spluttered Ron, choking on his orange juice.  
  
"I can explain that, Harry," said Hermione. "Wait... you mean Ron was out last night, too?"  
  
"Er, yeah," Harry replied, a little confused. "I figured you were together. The Fat Lady said Ron was practically right behind you."  
  
Ron's ears were fiery red as he stared down at his toast.  
  
"Well, I... er," he stammered, turning more red by the second, "I saw Hermione go out just as I was heading upstairs. I didn't think she ought to go out alone, so I followed."  
  
"I was posting a letter," Hermione answered angrily, "and you have some nerve following me about, Ron Weasley! It isn't as though you caught me up to keep me company. As far as I knew, I was alone. You were spying on me!"  
  
"I was not! Why were you out posting a letter at that time of night? Anyone could have been roaming about. Couldn't ickle Vicky's letter wait until morning?"  
  
Harry cringed. He knew both Hermione and Ron were sensitive about Hermione's correspondence with Bulgarian seeker and Durmstrang student, Viktor Krum. They had fought about it before. This time, however, Harry felt Ron may have pushed just a bit too far. He screwed up his eyes, bracing himself and was not disappointed.  
  
"HOW DARE YOU!" Hermione was nearly as angry as when she had slapped Malfoy's face. "As if it is any of your business! As if I was some helpless idiot who needed looking after! This is exactly why I waited until I thought you'd gone up to send that owl. I knew you'd carry on this way! You, you... OH!" Hermione nearly screamed in frustration, her face as red as Ron's. Hurriedly scooping up her things, she practically ran from the Hall.  
  
Ron slumped in his seat, mashing his toast to crumbs without even noticing.  
  
"Just because a bloke tries to be nice. Just because I was concerned..." he muttered to himself.  
  
Harry sighed heavily and silently returned to his breakfast. He had suspected nearly two years ago, the night of the Yule Ball, that Hermione understood things better than Ron. Now, he was certain.  
  
With breakfast well underway, Harry began watching Dumbledore. When the headmaster rose, he gave Harry a meaningful look and exited the Hall. Harry shot Ron a look of his own and followed.  
  
A few minutes later, Harry was before the stone gargoyle which hid the headmaster's door. Only then did he realize that he was stuck there at the gargoyle without the password. He was about to try running down the list of Honeydukes' best offerings when the gargoyle moved back of its own accord. Looking around but seeing nothing, Harry shrugged and stepped onto the moving spiral staircase. At the top, the heavy wooden door stood open. Harry was entered the room tentatively.  
  
The office was deceptively peaceful in the bright morning light. At any rate, it didn't look like the sort of place where one expected to come across a clandestine meeting of the Order or where one would discuss dark, violent dreams. Instead, several portraits dozed comfortably in their frames while numerous delicate-looking gizmos made soft whirring sounds on a side table. Professor Dumbledore sat at his desk, beckoning Harry to come in.  
  
"Ah, Harry, there you are. Excellent. Come in and have a seat. I can't keep you long from your classes and we have much to discuss."  
  
Harry was seated in front of Dumbledore's desk before he noticed the other person in the room.  
  
"Remus!" exclaimed Harry in glad surprise. "I didn't know you would be able to come. Are people allowed to know you're here?"  
  
"Well, not exactly," Remus replied, grinning at Harry's greeting. He looked tired and almost sick. Then, Harry remembered the nearly full moon. "I will be around for a week or so, however. I'm sure I can find a way to visit with Hermione, Ron and Ginny."  
  
"We can work out those details later," the headmaster interrupted, smiling. "Harry, I want to begin with the dream you had on the train. Professor McGonagall passed along your story to me, but please tell it again so Remus will know."  
  
So, Harry recounted the dream. He then told, again, about the attack. As he spoke, he was surprised to find he still felt little emotion over all that had happened. He knew that, at the time, he had been frightened, worried, horrified - all the things one would expect. There had even been anger when the Sorting Hat sang and despair when Dumbledore had called on the school to salute Cho. Yet, now, he felt blank.  
  
"Yes," Dumbledore mused, "yes, it does tally. Harry, you did have a vision of another attack. This one was different, however, in that we received advance notice from an informant."  
  
"This informant gave us an exact time and place of a planned attack - that muggle market. That is why Mundungus and Tonks were there," added Remus, "but it turned out to be a trap." Nodding at Harry's look of surprise he went on, "Oh, there was an attack, alright, as you could see, but there was also an attempt to kidnap Order members."  
  
"Kidnap, not kill," said Dumbledore. "Our informant must have been sent to be very certain there would be at least one of the Order at that market. Interestingly, the attackers were, again, soul-imposed and using werewolf methods. They also knew one of our two operatives on sight. Miss Tonks is, of course, less readily identified."  
  
"Was anyone hurt?" Harry asked.  
  
"Minor contusions. Remus arrived in time to assist and after a few first aid charms, some repairs to the vendors' stalls and a bit of memory modification, all was well."  
  
"But," said Harry, confused, "what about the kidnapping? How did Mundungus and Tonks get away? What happened to the attackers?"  
  
"Funny about that," commented Remus. "That was our one piece of luck in this whole business. There were four of them and they seemed to mark Dung almost immediately. Aside from a few offhand strikes at nearby muggles, all their attention was for him. I arrived just as Tonks moved on them. They just, sort of, stopped - aimless, in a way - for a moment. They seemed to snap out of it then, and after a few more scratches and bites, they disapperated."  
  
"Aimless?" Harry questioned. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Just that," replied Remus, running a thin hand through his hair tiredly. "It was as though, for just a moment, they simply didn't know what to do next."  
  
"The soul-imposed attackers seemed to suffer that lapse at the point in the attack which coincides with the moment in your dream, Harry, in which you resisted the vision and tried to give warning," said Professor Dumbledore. "You must have created enough thought disturbance to momentarily suspend Voldemort's control over his victims." He frowned slightly, "While that delay may have been Mundungus' saving, I am afraid it has, again, alerted Voldemort to your presence."  
  
"And the attack on the train?" Harry asked, trying not to think much about what Dumbledore had just said.  
  
"That was probably a reminder," Remus said darkly, "that no one is safe. Not even children."  
  
"Not even in my care," sighed Dumbledore.  
  
There was an uncomfortable silence among the three. After a moment, Harry reluctantly reached into his book bag.  
  
"Sir, there is something else," he said quietly, handing the sealed carafe across the desk and telling what had happened.  
  
"I must speak to the Fat Lady about who might have passed into the tower last night," commented Dumbledore.  
  
"Well, I, er... I already did that, sir."  
  
"And?"  
  
"Well, uh..."  
  
"No punishments, Harry. Who?"  
  
"Hermione went out to post a letter and Ron followed her. They were both back long before I woke up."  
  
"Well, the portrait hole is the only way in or out of Gryffindor tower," remarked Remus, looking worried.  
  
"Hmm, yes," agreed Dumbledore. "We shall begin with this carafe. I assume, Harry, you did nothing to it before sealing it? Good. We shall give it a thorough examination.  
  
"For now, Harry, you must return to your lessons. After Charms today, speak privately with Professor Flitwick. Tell him I wish you to learn a ward charm for your dorm room. As soon as I know more about this incident, I shall inform you. Also, you will be notified when we have a time and place for your next Occlumency lesson."  
  
Seeing Harry's mouth open in protest, he patted the air at him.  
  
"I know, I know. I assure you this experience will be more, er, positive. Do not waste energy worrying about it. I trust you will need that energy for other things once you have heard my lunchtime announcement." The old eyes twinkled merrily.  
  
"Erm, alright, sir. I'll do my best," said Harry uncertainly. He rose, excusing himself, but turned back when he reached the door.  
  
"Remus, will you be here for the full moon?"  
  
Remus nodded, his eyes questioning.  
  
"Well, since that isn't for two more days, do you think, er, we would you like to get in some fencing practice with me? Maybe it would help us both," Harry added meaningfully.  
  
"I'd like that, Harry," smiled Remus, gratitude in his eyes. "I'll be in touch with you later today."  
  
Harry smiled in return and left the office. He paused outside the door to settle his book bag more comfortably on his shoulder. He could hear the two men in the office resuming their conversation. Harry was about to step onto the spiral staircase - now moving downward - when the voices caused him to stay his step. Remus was talking about Harry.  
  
"...can't help it, Albus. Harry seemed so... oh, I don't know, frozen, I guess. All while he was talking about his dream and the attack on the train, it was like watching a mechanical Harry. He has been, as long as I've known him, fairly controlled in emotional situations, usually, but one could still tell he felt deeply. Today, it was almost as though he was struggling to feel anything at all."  
  
"Remus, I understand your concern and I share it. However, it seems a bit soon to worry overmuch. The events on the train came as such a shock and are still so fresh. And, of course, Miss Chang... We will watch over him, Remus, I assure you."  
  
Harry didn't wait to hear more. Without really seeing where he was going, he bounded down the moving staircase and out into the passageway before the stone gargoyle.  
  
Remus noticed, too. Dumbledore thinks I need to be watched. They just don't understand.  
  
Harry stopped in the middle of the corridor.  
  
"It is too much. Why can't Dumbledore see that?"  
  
"See what, my boy?"  
  
Harry whirled around and straight into the Gryffindor ghost, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington or, Nearly Headless Nick. Stepping back, and out of Nick's icy cold, Harry tried to calm his racing heartbeat.  
  
"Nick! You scared me half to death."  
  
"My apologies, young Potter. I should have realized you hadn't noticed me when you walked past." Nick looked at him with concern. "Would you like to tell me about it?"  
  
"Tell you about what, Sir Nicholas? I'm... everything is fine, really," Harry lied.  
  
"No, it isn't. I shan't press you, however. But do bear in mind, Harry, that I am here, should you wish to talk. Some people find it easier to unburden themselves to the nonliving, you know," Nick said conversationally as he drifted into the stone wall beside them.  
  
By now, Harry had missed all of Transfiguration, so he headed downstairs and out across the grounds for Care of Magical Creatures. He caught up to Ron just as they reached Hagrid's hut. Hermione was no where in sight.  
  
"Harry! How did it go?" Ron asked quietly, so as not to be overheard.  
  
"I've got to have Occlumency lessons with Snape, again," Harry answered.  
  
Ron was about to tell Harry, in no uncertain terms, what he thought of that idea when Hagrid, followed closely by Fang, approached the group.  
  
"Alrigh' then? All in the righ' place, are yeh? NEWT level Care of Magical Creatures, this is. An' I've got yeh some gran', interestin' creatures fer this year. Now, if yeh'll all come roun' this way..."  
  
Trailing along behind Hagrid, the group exchanged worried looks. They had spent enough time with Hagrid to know that any creature he classified as grand or interesting would be completely horrible. Harry spotted Hermione just arriving, looking very concerned, indeed.  
  
Coming around a clump of trees and up to the fence of Hagrid's grassy paddock, the group paused in surprise. A huge, grayish-purple, humped beast kicked at the ground inside the fence irritably. No one said anything for a moment, but then, Hermione spoke, her voice quaking.  
  
"Ha... Heh... Hagrid, is that a... graphorn?"  
  
Hagrid nodded, beaming.  
  
"Now, yeh'll wan' ter keep back from the fence, some. Monty, 'ere, ain' no great 'and fer makin' friends. In fact, if he comes runnin', yeh migh' wan' ter step back, sharpish like. 'E's had some calmin' potion in his breakfas' an' all, but yeh'll wan' to keep yer wands 'andy. If yeh all stun 'im together, yeh'll be able ter bring 'im down, if needs be. Now, 'oo can tell us abou' Monty?"  
  
It seemed like another lifetime, but Harry had a dim memory of OWL preparations. It was something for Defense, something else for Potions... To Harry's own surprise, he saw Hagrid nodding encouragingly at him and his hand in the air over his head.  
  
"Um, well, the powdered horn is an important ingredient in the more powerful strengthening solutions and the hide is valued because it is even tougher than dragon hide and can repel almost any spell."  
  
"Tha's fine, 'Arry. Ten points ter Gryffindor fer tha', I'd say."  
  
Hagrid talked a bit about the difficult task of collecting horns and hides. The rest of the class period was spent in making observations and sketches of the graphorn.  
  
After class, Harry and Ron walked back to the castle with Seamus, Dean and Neville. They were all discussing the merits of class without Malfoy since he had evidently opted not to take Hagrid's class for NEWTs. Harry noticed that while Ron was nominally engaged in a dissection of Draco Malfoy's personality, his real attention was directed about ten meters ahead where Hermione, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were walking. After class, Hermione had taken no notice of Ron at all, though she had approached Harry to ask if his meeting with Dumbledore had gone well. Harry had promised her the full story later and she had gone off with the other girls. Ron was left standing, his jaw slack and his ears burning.  
  
The two remained separate and speechless through lunch and Harry was beginning to be annoyed when his attention was diverted completely. Professor Dumbledore rose to make the announcement he had mentioned to Harry earlier. He stood and tapped his goblet a few times, hemmed once or twice and when the Hall had fallen sufficiently silent, he smiled and spoke.  
  
"With the return of the role of the Ministry in the governance of this school to what is was prior to last year (there were some scattered murmurs about the Hall and "that Umbridge woman" was heard more than once), I am pleased to announce that the restrictions placed on extracurricular activities have been lifted. This means quidditch resumes, unmolested, and tryouts for house teams will be held next week." With a wink directed at the Gryffindor table, he continued. "Further, it must be noted that the bans placed last year on three Gryffindor house players were lifted, unanimously, by the board of trustees, last night. All students are eligible for tryouts."  
  
A great roar went up from the Gryffindor table and Harry was nearly buried by hands shaking his, thumping him on the shoulders, and, in the case of Hermione, hugging him joyfully. Harry felt as though a weight was suddenly lifted from him. He'd be playing quidditch again! He could almost feel the rush of wind in his face which had so often helped to clear his mind. He glanced over at the Slytherin table and Malfoy's cold stare only added to his enjoyment. He looked up at the head table and saw Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore beaming at him.  
  
The rest of the day was gone in a rush. Despite his excitement, Harry remembered to ask Professor Flitwick for the ward charm. That night, Hermione helped him practice it until he was quite confident. She and Ron were still not speaking and while that dampened Harry's spirits a bit, he convinced himself they couldn't keep it up for long and went off to bed in as joyful a mood as he had known for some time.  
  
The days settled into as normal a pattern as one ever found at Hogwarts. Harry and Remus found a bit of time for fencing before the full moon and Ron joined them for a session or two after. On Remus' last day before heading back to Order headquarters, he greeted their arrival for practice with a serious look at Ron.  
  
"I've just had a visitor, but she wouldn't stay once she heard you two were coming," he said, "and I don't think it was Harry she was avoiding. Ron, it probably isn't my business, but why does Hermione want to avoid you?"  
  
Ron flushed and stared at the floor, not answering. Harry, himself was growing quite impatient with the whole situation. Seeing there was no answer forthcoming, Harry spoke up himself.  
  
"The two of them got into a row over Ron following Hermione up to the owlery the other night."  
  
"Hermione's just being stupid," snapped Ron, giving Harry a dark look.  
  
"Ah. Whereas, sneaking around after her in the middle of the night is perfectly bloody brilliant, is it?" Harry snapped back.  
  
"Hold up, you two," interjected Remus, smirking. "Let me get this straight, Ron. You followed Hermione around without telling her?"  
  
"She shouldn't be wandering around alone in the middle of the night!" Ron yelled.  
  
"Alright, alright," Remus laughed, "take 50 points for chivalry but lose about 300 for lack of forethought, yeah? Didn't you think how she'd feel when she found out?"  
  
"I didn't plan on telling her," Ron mumbled..  
  
"Ron, if you don't like her writing to Krum, don't you think you should talk to her about it?" Harry asked.  
  
"Oh come off it, Harry! You know I've tried to warn her about that Durmstrang lot."  
  
"No," Harry said wearily, "I mean, don't you think you ought to talk to her about the real reason?"  
  
"I don't know what you are on about."  
  
Remus rolled his eyes and Harry sighed and raised his eyebrows.  
  
"I think you do mate."  
  
They turned to their warm-up footwork drills in silence.  
  
* * *  
  
The day after Remus' departure was the next dueling club session and Harry was anxious to see what Snape would do. Certainly, his encounter with Annwyl after the previous meeting had done nothing to sweeten his disposition. As Harry had feared, Snape was doing his level best to find fault with Harry or provoke an argument. So far, Harry had managed to avoid detention, but more than once, it had been a very near thing.  
  
A crowd had already gathered when the trio arrived in the Great Hall that evening. Ron and Hermione were still refusing to speak to one another so they stayed on opposite sides of Harry, saying little. Harry was beginning to think it would be a lot simpler if they were mad at him, as well.  
  
At precisely 7:30, Snape strode into the Hall, Annwyl following, somewhat less dramatically, behind.  
  
"If I might have your attention," Snape said, "Professor King insists that her unusual muggle approach to wizard dueling is quite effective. I have decided to give her the opportunity to prove herself and for the next several sessions, Professor King will have charge of you. I shall observe."  
  
On either side of Harry, Ron snorted and Hermione clicked her tongue in derision. Only the three of them knew how Professor King had put Professor Snape in his place.  
  
With only a polite nod to Snape, Annwyl stepped forward, conjuring weapons and transfiguring clothing. She set them straight to work on attack and defense drills. After a bit, she paired them up and began some mock bouts. Once everyone had had a turn, Annwyl transfigured all clothing to normal and their foils vanished.  
  
"Now, I shall pair you with new partners," Annwyl announced, "and we will practice disarming. I know you are all able to perform this simple spell, so I want you not to think about the incantation, but your technique. Consider your body's movements in dodging or placing the spell. Now, begin."  
  
Harry found himself paired with Dean and was a bit concerned to see Ron and Hermione paired off. He couldn't help but believe no good would come of that situation.  
  
Although Dean did quite well, Harry was so accustomed to the disarming charm and his reflexes were so well honed from quidditch and his summer training with Annwyl, Dean was never able to disarm him, while Harry managed to take Dean's wand several times. They, along with most other students in the Hall were soon distracted by an uproar in one corner. It was Ron and Hermione.  
  
The pair were standing apart from the others, clearly engaged in a full-blown duel. Although they had been instructed to stick to disarming, Harry could see they pent up frustration of the past week had gotten the better of them both. Hermione dodged a jelly-legs hex, just as she fired a tickling charm at Ron. So far, neither had managed to land a spell on the other. Ron's chess player's strategic skill was proving an excellent match for Hermione's astounding knowledge of spells. They bobbed and weaved around one another, directing increasingly rapid and nasty hexes at their opponent.  
  
Snape moved toward them, wand drawn, just as Harry darted forward as well. They were both stopped, however, by Annwyl's outstretched arms.  
  
"No, wait. I gather they have something to settle. Let them work this out."  
  
After another five minutes or so of rapid-fire curses. Harry could see Hermione was beginning to tire. Ron had the advantage of the summer's quidditch and fencing while Hermione had been home with her books. The effort was taking its toll. Ron cast a leg-locker curse and Hermione wasn't fast enough. Her legs stiffened and she fell to the floor, surprise showing on her face.  
  
Ron was equally surprised and leaped toward her in a vain attempt to catch her as she fell. In that split second with Ron's defenses down, Hermione raised her wand, the surprise on her face replaced with with anger.  
  
"Expelliarmus!"  
  
Ron's wand whipped from his hand and Hermione stretched our her arm, catching it before it struck the stone floor. A muttered counter-jinx and she was back on her feet before a very angry Ron.  
  
"I just wanted to be sure you were alright!" he shouted.  
  
"I never wanted you to be my nanny!" she raged back at him.  
  
They both turned on their heels and stormed out of the Hall in opposite directions. Harry looked to Annwyl who regarded him calmly.  
  
"You know, I don't believe they were referring to their duel."  
  
Harry had to agree.  
  
* * *  
  
Over the following days, Ron and Hermione maintained an almost complete silence. Ron did appear at the quidditch tryouts the day after his duel with Hermione, but said nothing to anyone aside from remarks directly pertaining to the team. They both avoided Harry altogether, which Harry suspected was to ensure there would be no efforts to reconcile the two. It did make Harry's time less fraught with tension, but definitely lonelier.  
  
Although Ron had shown little enthusiasm for quidditch, Harry was delighted. Tryouts had gone very well indeed. Ron was easily named keeper for a second year and Harry was uncontested as he resumed his place as seeker. Ginny showed herself to be quite a respectable chaser and was joined by Jack Sloper who turned out to be a fair chaser despite his less than stellar performance as beater the year before. Amazing everyone present, Dennis Creevey showed some impressive speed and maneuvering and was chosen as their third chaser. Andrew Kirke stayed on as beater and third year, Donald Farlan filled out the Gryffindor side. Ron's only show of enthusiasm that day was a congratulatory thump on the back when the team unanimously voted Harry captain.  
  
Now, days later, with quidditch practices well underway, Harry's mood was souring. He did most of his studying alone and, although he was among friends at meals, he missed the camaraderie he had once had with his two best friends. He felt it most keenly when, at breakfast, nearly three weeks after his meeting with Dumbledore and Remus, Harry received a letter.  
  
Unhappily, we were unable to learn anything from your carafe. We have reason to fear there is an unknown entrance into your tower. Be quite certain to set the ward charm on your dorm each night. Additional wards will be set for the rest of Gryffindor house. Come to the History of Magic classroom Thursday evening at eight pm. For you next Occlumency lesson.  
  
Under the best of circumstances, Harry would have found this letter far from satisfactory. Now, with neither of his best friends to talk to about it, Harry's temper bubbled over.  
  
"Right. This has gone far enough," he muttered as he stuffed the letter in his pocket and hefted his book bag to his shoulder. "If I have to face Snape, the least they could do is face each other."  
  
For the rest of the day, Harry turned it over in his mind. He felt what he really needed was a place to lock Ron and Hermione away until they had come to their senses. At last, as he trudged up the hill toward the castle after Herbology, it came to him. He would use the Room of Requirement.  
  
Harry made his way to the owlery and tied two identical notes to Hedwig's legs.  
  
Meet me in the Room of Requirement, 7:30 tonight. -Harry  
  
"Okay, Hedwig. Leave these where Ron and Hermione will get them. Just make sure they can't see they each got one, right?"  
  
Hedwig gave his ear an affectionate tweak and soared out the window.  
  
Leaving the owlery, Harry darted into the upstairs corridor where the room was hidden. Checking to see no one was watching, he murmured to himself,  
  
"I need a room where Ron and Hermione can talk alone."  
  
A door opened in the wall beside him and with a sigh of relief, Harry went inside. The room was furnished with a plain table and two chairs on opposite sides.  
  
"I was picturing something a little more comfortable."  
  
The table shrank to a low round stand with a small lamp. The stiff chairs filled out to comfortable, squashy armchairs.  
  
"Okay, that is some better. A little, erm, friendlier, maybe?" Harry blushed as he thought it, but figured if he was going to do this, it might as well be done properly.  
  
The lamp disappeared from the table and, instead, several dim candles floated overhead. A delicate-looking flask of elderberry nectar appeared on the table beside two glasses that sparkled in the candlelight. Harry grinned.  
  
"That ought to do it. Now, I need a charm that will lock the door from letting them out until they find a way to get along."  
  
A parchment with an incantation appeared in his hand. It was a locking charm with an added phrase, Dona nobis pacem - Give us peace. The lock would open only when the occupants of the room had only friendly feelings toward one another.  
  
Harry then wrote a note to them both which he left on the table next to the nectar.  
  
Ron and Hermione,  
By the time you read this, you will be locked in this room. I know you will be furious with me, but you won't be able to get out to hex me until the two of you can settle your argument. The lock won't open until you are at peace.  
I'm sorry to do this to you, but I miss my friends. Now, of all times, is the time to stick together and if you weren't both being such great, stubborn blockheads, you'd be together quite nicely.  
So, when you've gotten yourselves out of this mess, come find me. I'll be waiting for your hexes in the common room.  
  
Harry  
  
As he left the room, he set the peace lock on the door.  
  
Harry was down the corridor from the Room of Requirement at 7:20 that evening, safely hidden under his invisibility cloak. Five minutes later, Hermione appeared, found the door and entered. Moments after that, Ron arrived. Once they were both safely inside, Harry turned quietly back toward the common room to wait. It was all up to them, now. 


	8. Heart of Lion, Tounge of Snake

Disclaimer: Please see previous chapters.  
  
Author's Notes: Thanks a thousand times to Moriah S., my wonderful beta. Thanks also to the wonderful readers who have reviewed. You have no idea how much it helps and encourages me to hear from you. If you haven't already reviewed or would just like to do so again, PLEASE review! I need all the encouragement I can get!  
  
HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND  
  
Chapter 8 - Heart of Lion, Tongue of Snake  
  
It was past midnight and the common room was empty except for Harry, who, despite some second thoughts about locking up his two best friends, had finally fallen asleep on a sofa before the fire. His sleep wasn't peaceful, though. He stirred and muttered fretfully. Then, through the troublesome, indistinct dreams, Harry heard familiar voices.  
  
"Maybe we shouldn't wake him. Serve him right."  
  
"I think we should. Look at him. Those can't be nice dreams he's having. Come on, then, Harry. Harry, wake up. Come on, up you get."  
  
Harry felt a hand gently shaking his shoulder. Opening his eyes, he adjusted his glasses and focused on Hermione.  
  
"Are you alright? You look like you were having another bad dream," she said.  
  
"I'm fine," Harry managed groggily as he sat up.  
  
Shaking his head, he roused himself and looked up at Ron and Hermione standing on the hearth rug. Lifting one eyebrow, Harry noticed Ron's arm around Hermione's shoulders.  
  
"I take it you didn't wake me up to hex me."  
  
The two started and separated to sit in chairs on opposite sides of the fireplace. Ron grinned at Harry sheepishly. Hermione looked rather annoyed, though, to Harry, it seemed to cost her a bit to maintain that facade.  
  
"Well, we'd certainly be within our rights if we did," she began.  
  
"Oh, come on, Hermione," Harry grinned at her, "I had to do something. You two were absolutely impossible. I don't think you could even stand yourselves. Although," he added with a significant look at Ron, "I had no idea it would work this well."  
  
"Well, I. er, we." she stammered, blushing deeply, making Harry laugh.  
  
"Right, well I'm not ashamed to say it," Ron said, a bit defiantly. "Not only did we patch up after our row, we are together, now." He cast a suddenly nervous glance at Hermione. "Aren't we?"  
  
She moved over to his chair and perched on its arm. Resting her hand lightly on Ron's shoulder, she smiled down at him, nodding. Ron beamed at her.  
  
"Blimey," exclaimed Harry, pulling a face, "can't you save that for when I'm not around? Really, my dreams are bad enough."  
  
Ron blushed again and Hermione pulled a face in return. Then, she grew serious.  
  
"Harry, about your dreams - were you having one when we woke you?"  
  
"No, nothing definite," he answered, "but there have been some things going on and we haven't really talked much. I know it's late - "  
  
"Nope," said Ron, shaking his head, "never mind the time. Tell us everything."  
  
They talked for hours, going over every word of Harry's talk with Dumbledore, every word of the note he had received that day and even what Harry might expect in the next Occlumency lesson. Harry hadn't felt so relaxed in ages. He still had a mountain of troubling things looming over him, but having his two best friends to talk to about it made it much easier to bear. Even an Occlumency lesson didn't seem so daunting now. He was amazed when Hermione looked at her wristwatch and gasped.  
  
"Oh my goodness! It's nearly four in the morning. Oh, we'll be wrecks in lessons. We'd better try to get what sleep we can before breakfast."  
  
"Right you are, Hermione," yawned Harry, heading for the boys' staircase. He looked over his shoulder questioningly at Ron who hadn't moved.  
  
"Erm, I'll catch you up, Harry," Ron said, glancing sidelong at Hermione.  
  
"Oh, yeah. Right. G'night, then"  
  
Harry scuttled up the stairs almost at a run. That had been decidedly uncomfortable. In future, he would have to be certain to head up well before Ron or Hermione so as to avoid another scene like that.  
  
Harry was very thoughtful as he dressed for bed. When he locked Ron and Hermione into the Room of Requirement, he had nothing more in view than ending their terrible quarrel. Of course, he had known for some time that Ron thought quite a lot of Hermione, whether Ron admitted it or not. He had suspected that Hermione felt the same way about Ron. Now, Harry was facing a result he had not considered. His two best friends were a couple. He knew he should be happy for them because they were his best friends.  
  
And I am happy, he told himself firmly. They deserve the chance to be together.  
  
Harry was just about to climb into bed when Ron came into the dorm. He came to stand beside Harry's bed, with a serious expression.  
  
"Harry, are you okay with this? I mean, this isn't going to be too weird or something, because Hermione and I don't want that. We are still best friends, right?"  
  
Glad for the darkened room which partially hid his face, Harry nodded and made his voice as cheerful as possible.  
  
"Of course, mate. I think it's brilliant. And really, who knew I was such a tactical genius?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know," Ron chuckled softly. "For the first hour or so, it looked like locking us in was the worst bloody bloomer you ever made. Still, I owe you, Harry. I'd given up on her ever speaking to me again." He thumped Harry on the shoulder. "Well, g'night, mate."  
  
Harry flopped back into bed and stared up at the hangings. Despite his assurances to Ron, he couldn't help a creeping sensation of discontent. It was a good thing for Ron and Hermione, but that didn't silence a selfish voice in the back of Harry's mind.  
  
But what about me?  
  
* * *  
  
A few hours sleep, Harry found, improved everything. As he dressed to go down to breakfast, he couldn't help a feeling of smug satisfaction. After all, today everyone would find out about Ron and Hermione and Harry harbored a sense of pride in pulling of a pretty impressive prank.  
  
When Harry and Ron met Hermione in the common room on their way to breakfast, Harry found a whole new source of enjoyment in the new state of affairs. For Ron, despite last night's display of Gryffindor courage in announcing Hermione and him a couple was now displaying a painful level of embarrassment as Hermione took his arm to go downstairs. To be fair, Hermione didn't look exactly at ease, but her expression was resolute. Harry followed behind them, trying without much success to suppress a knowing snigger.  
  
He was slightly more sympathetic when they reached the Great Hall and everyone saw Ron and Hermione, arm in arm. He had, himself, been the focus of all those stares often enough to know how daunting it was, just walking to the Gryffindor table. Hermione kept her chin up but she was red to the roots of her hair. Ron stared intently at his shoes. They managed only a few steps into the room before breaking physical contact. By the time they took seats at the table, even Harry was blushing and squirming. Their housemates' faces were a variety of stunned stares and maniacal grins.  
  
"And would you be having something to tell us, Ron?" leered Seamus while Dean sniggered and Neville gaped.  
  
"Have some porridge, Ron?" said Ginny smoothly, administering an affectionate kick to Dean's shin. "Hermione, your copy of The Prophet arrived before you came in. I saved it for you."  
  
Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Ginny. She was obviously going out of her way to make it easier for them, but Harry felt this was something quite out of character. He had expected her to tease as mercilessly as either of the twins. As if sensing his thoughts, Ginny turned to him, murmuring quietly,  
  
"I know, Harry. It's a shame to miss such a brilliant opportunity, but. well, just look at Malfoy."  
  
Harry frowned and turned his head to give the tables a casual-seeming glance. He could see Malfoy on the far side of the Hall, watching Ron and Hermione speculatively. Something about the faint sneer on the pale, pointed face set off alarm bells for Harry.  
  
"Bugger," breathed Harry, clenching his fists slightly.  
  
"Nasty piece of work, alright," Ginny agreed. "Seemed best to stop drawing his attention so much."  
  
By the time breakfast was over and students were heading off to lessons, Ron and Hermione were noticeably more relaxed. Most of the initial interest in them had died and with very few actually gawking at them, the pair was even brave enough to head off down the staircase to the dungeons, hand in hand. They were just about to enter the Potions classroom, when a voice spoke from a shadowy niche across the corridor.  
  
"You know, you tow positively ruined my breakfast for me," Malfoy drawled, detaching himself from the shadows. "After you showed up looking like a. oh, it is too nauseating to even say it. like a couple, I simply couldn't eat another bite. Weasel, the disgrace of your miserable family is now complete. Weasel and the Mudblood. Although, I have heard you ridiculous brother - Petey, Perky, oh I can't remember his name - I've heard he's got the measure of your wretched brood."  
  
It took both Harry and Hermione hanging on Ron's arms to hold him off Malfoy. Ron struggled against them, growling to be let go, orange and red sparks emitting from the wand clenched tightly in his fist.  
  
"Ron, no," begged Hermione, tugging at his arm. "Please, it isn't worth it. Ignore him." She shot an ugly look over her shoulder at Malfoy. "It's just the ferret spouting off. Come on. Let's just get in and get our seats."  
  
With more tugging and cajoling, Hermione managed, with some additional shoves from Harry, to get Ron through the door. Once they had gone in, however, Harry turned back to Malfoy who was looking on in amusement.  
  
"You want to watch yourself, Malfoy. You may not always have Hermione to protect you."  
  
"Remember with whom you are dealing, Potter," said Malfoy, teeth clenched and all amusement gone. "I'm warning you. I have not forgotten what you did to my father, and I am not alone."  
  
"Good morning, gentlemen," said Annwyl's cool voice from the doorway of the classroom. "You do intend to join us, do you not?"  
  
She gestured them inside, giving them a hard, appraising stare. Malfoy had resumed his habitual bored sneer and Harry fought to maintain a look of blank neutrality. This was not something he felt like explaining.  
  
Ron seethed throughout the lesson, but Malfoy stayed away form them after his taunts in the corridor. In fact, after that initial encounter, they saw almost nothing of the blond Sytherin. Somehow, Malfoy's absence was nearly as disturbing to Harry as his ever-present sneer had been. Harry kept asking himself,  
  
How did Malfoy know about Percy? And what in bloody hell did he mean when he said he wasn't alone? Has Voldemort got student operatives here at Hogwarts and ruddy Malfoy to lead them?  
  
***  
Time, as Harry had learned during his stint as a Triwizard Champion, has a disagreeable way of rushing past in great dollops just when one would most like it to slow down or perhaps stop altogether. Thursday evening arrived in a violent rush and Harry, to his deep disgust, found himself outside the History of Magic classroom, desperately wishing to be nearly anywhere else. Standing in the corridor was useless, he knew, and arriving late for the lesson would be asking for trouble. With a heavy sigh, Harry pushed the door open and went inside.  
  
Snape stood at the table on the raised platform at the front of the room. As Harry had seen him do before lessons in the past, he was extracting thoughts and placing them in the pensive on the table before him. There was a significant difference this time, aside from the location. Sitting at a desk to one side was Dumbledore.  
  
"Good evening, Harry," he said genially. "You've arrived just on time. Professor Snape was just completing preparations, were you not, Severus?"  
  
Snape gave a curt nod.  
  
"Excellent," smiled Dumbledore, rubbing his hands together. "Then, let us begin. Harry, your lessons will have a somewhat different pattern this year. I wish to begin by explaining the arts of Legilimency and Occlumency - a brief history, as it were. Professor Snape shall, then, begin your practical instruction with some exercises designed to strengthen your resistance. You have a question, Harry?"  
  
"Yes, sir. Will you be here during the practical instruction?"  
  
Dumbledore must have heard the uneasiness in Harry's voice for he shot a keen glance at Snape who was glowering at Harry, before answering.  
  
"Yes, Harry, for this evening, anyway. I shall not always be able to join you for your lessons, however," There was another glance at Snape. "I shall, in my absences, assign someone to take my place. Now then, shall we begin?"  
  
Harry was so relieved to have escaped being alone with Snape, he could hardly pay proper attention to the headmaster's discourse on Legilimency and Occlumency. A few points, however, did catch Harry's notice.  
  
"Harry, perhaps you might find it easiest to think of Legilimency as peeling back the layers of an onion. The mind is a complex, multi-layered consciousness. When all layers are intact, the consciousness is sound and strong - generally able to resist dangerous intrusion from day to day existence. The skill of the accomplished Legilimens is in the ability to separate and pull away layers, thus weakening and exposing the whole to view. Do you see?  
  
"Now, as with other forms of magic, Legilimency does have counter- magic - Occlumency. So, if Legilimency seeks to separate the layers of consciousness to expose what lies within, then the role of Occlumency is to defend the whole against attack or intrusion."  
  
Harry was surprised at how simple the concept actually seemed to be. In past lessons with Snape, he had only thought in terms of repelling the professor's intrusion into his thoughts. Harry had never considered how Snape was gaining entrance or what the Legilimens spell was actually doing within his mind. Now, however, as he stood facing Snape, ready to begin practical instruction, he felt better armed against the coming onslaught.  
  
Snape had been silent throughout Dumbledore's lecture. He remained off to one side, his features and body language devoid of any emotion. When Dumbledore had finished his explanation, he stepped forward.  
  
"Very well then, Potter," he said, his voice cool and impersonal, "we shall begin with a simple exercise. I dare not hope you remember anything from our previous lessons, so I shall begin entirely anew."  
  
Harry scowled at him, but Snape took no notice. Dumbledore did not respond either, but Harry could feel the sharp, blue gaze directed at them, all the same.  
  
"In this exercise," Snape went on, "you are to attempt to clear your mind of any thought or emotions and I will enter your mind to see if you have succeeded. Do not resist me at this time, is that clear, Potter?"  
  
"Yes, Professor, but just how am I supposed to clear my mind so completely?" Harry responded, trying hard to keep his irritation and dislike of Snape out of his voice.  
  
Snape responded with an impatient noise and gesture.  
  
"Concentrate, Potter. Apply yourself."  
  
"Er, Professor Snape, if I may," interjected Dumbledore, "I believe I may have a suggestion." Acknowledging his younger colleague's rather irritable nod, he went on. "Harry, just to begin with, try directing all your attention on one word. Not a name, as that generally carries too many associated ideas. Choose a common word and concentrate on it."  
  
Harry nodded and frowned in thought. After a moment, he turned to Snape.  
  
"Alright, sir. I think I'm ready."  
  
Their eyes met as the incantation was uttered and Harry felt, in a way he could not explain, a presence within his mind. His first instinct was to recoil but remembering he was not to resist, he turned his attention to blanking his mind to everything but his selected word - quill.  
  
Though he was physically trembling with the mental effort of clearing his head, Harry soon saw a stream of memories flooding his thoughts - buying quills and ink with Hagrid in Diagon Alley, the eagle feather quill which was his first gift from Hermione, the acid-green quick quotes quill racing across the parchment as he sat perched on a packing carton and Rita Skeeter interviewed him in a broom cupboard.  
  
"Well, Potter," Snape said disgustedly, "I suppose I should congratulate you on giving me access only to your thoughts regarding quills. However, I should have seen nothing aside from the word 'quill.' Let us try again."  
  
They tried several more times and Harry even experimented with different words, but with no success.  
  
"Now Potter, really," said Snape, thoroughly exasperated, "is this the best you can offer? I am not surprised the Dark Lord enters your mind so easily. Again, now, and do try to select a word with more interesting thoughts associated. I am finding this a bit dull."  
  
This time, Harry was unable to restrict himself to a single word. Anger and dislike of Snape crowded his thoughts and try as he might, he could not shift them. Harry could feel Snape enter his consciousness and, immediately, there was a rush of thoughts - image after image of Snape. The professor pulled back from Harry's mind with an angry snarl.  
  
"Potter, I assure you, I find no more pleasure in this process than you do. Were I to compose a list of desirable activities, it would not include anything related to you in any way. Since this instruction has been deemed necessary and we are both required to participate," Here, he shot a look at Dumbledore who watched calmly, saying nothing. "I expect you to grant me more respect."  
  
With that, Snape swept from the room without another word.  
  
"Well," said Dumbledore, unperturbed, "I think this is a good stopping point for this evening. Professor Snape can retrieve him memories from the pensieve at another time. This isn't a skill attained in an evening. Off you go then, Harry. I will contact you regarding your next lesson. In the meantime, practice clearing your mind."  
  
Harry nodded and turned to go, but paused when Dumbledore spoke.  
  
"One more thing, Harry," the headmaster said evenly, "Suppose you tell me what word you were focusing on that upset your professor so."  
  
"Well, er. I'm afraid I wasn't able to focus on just one word." Harry paused and Dumbledore nodded solemnly for him to continue. "It was, uh. 'greasy git,' sir."  
  
* * *  
  
With October came the first quid ditch matches and the cheerful prospect of a Hogsmeade weekend. Gryffindor was scheduled to play against Hufflepuff in just better than a week and Harry found practices and studying for lessons gave him little time to practice clearing his mind. He did manage a few moments each evening. Of course, there was no way for him to judge his success, but he kept it up out of a sense of obligation to Dumbledore.  
  
Harry woke early on the morning of the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff match. Deciding is was too early to rouse the rest of the team, he dressed quietly and made his way downstairs and out of the castle. Walking over the pitch well before the match would give him an opportunity to go over the game strategy on more time.  
  
Once he was satisfied that he had covered every part of the game he could face in advance, Harry returned to the castle for breakfast. The whole team sat together, trying to encourage on another to eat while hardly touching anything themselves. Harry sat down across from Ron and Hermione. Ron stared vacantly at his bacon and hardly seemed to notice Harry's arrival. Hermione hurriedly stuffed a copy of The Daily Prophet into a pocket and greeted Harry with an almost guilty smile.  
  
"Don't fret, Hermione," he said laughing. "Ron's a nervous wreck, but that needn't keep you from reading the paper."  
  
"Oh, well," stammered Hermione, "no, you see, uh, well, I just finished anyway."  
  
Harry looked questioningly at her over his orange juice, but she looked away and struck up a conversation with Neville who sat close by.  
  
Soon enough, it was time to call the team together to leave for the changing rooms at the pitch. Shouldering his Firebolt, Harry led the Gryffindor players out of the Hall, the Hufflepuff team right behind.  
  
Playing quidditch again after so long was a sensation Harry was sure he would never forget. As he zoomed from one end of the stadium to the other, waiting for the game to begin, he was so keyed up about being there he could hardly enjoy it enough. Every detail of the sky, the pitch, the forest just beyond and the crowded seats seemed more noticeable, more clear than ever. He was glad for that too, a moment later, when he spotted Hermione sitting on a front row seat, Malfoy approaching from behind.  
  
Before he could catch Ron's attention or even call out to Hermione, Madame Hooch's whistle sounded, forcing him to land and shake hands with the Hufflepuff captain. As soon as play began and he was free to move about again, Harry flew near the stands where he had seen Hermione, his attention now focused entirely on what Malfoy was doing. She still sat, a little apart from some other students, waving madly as she saw him approach. Just at that moment, Malfoy slipped up from a seat behind and settled next to her. Harry saw her eyes widen in surprise, then narrow in suspicion. Malfoy leaned toward her as if in conversation, but Harry didn't see Hermione's response. The whoosh of a speeding bludger warned Harry to dive out of its path, but he quickly headed back up toward Hermione and Malfoy.  
  
Of course, Harry couldn't hear them, but he could see that Malfoy had upset her. Hermione was bright red, fists balled in her lap and her jaw set. Harry had only a fleeting thought that he was glad Ron wasn't seeing this, when he heard a shout behind him.  
  
"Oi! Malfoy! Sod off, you bloody -"  
  
"Ron! Get back to your position!" Harry yelled fiercely. "Leave it to me!"  
  
Harry streaked forward, leaving a fuming Ron behind. Not for nothing was the Firebolt considered a world class racing broom. Harry shot toward the blond Slytherin like an arrow. He noted, with grim satisfaction, the look of terror on the pale features as Harry pulled his broom up sharply, just short of striking Draco.  
  
"Get away from her Malfoy," Harry snarled dangerously.  
  
"Bugger off, Potty, before I send you and that overpowered broom nose- first into the pitch," Malfoy answered, his wand clenched in his hand.  
  
With a grunt of anger, Harry whipped his broom around in a vicious swipe. Its tail caught Malfoy on the side of the head, lifting him and tossing him anyhow among the seats. Harry was about to follow up with a remark, when a flash caught his eye. The snitch was fluttering about three meters below him to his left. Hardly taking time to breathe, Harry streaked down after it. Seconds later, he was sailing around the pitch, the tiny snitch beating against his clenched and upraised fist.  
  
For the first time since the match began, Harry was again aware of the crowd in the stands. Now, he realized it was Seamus Finnigan replacing the graduated Lee Jordan in the box beside Professor McGonagall, announcing the scores. He could hear him yelling over the cheers of the crowd.  
  
"And Potter has the snitch! It is 170 - 80, Gryffindor! Despite the Gryffindor keeper leaving the goals and the disturbance in the stands, Potter pulls off an impressive bit of flying and wins the game!"  
  
Harry came down to the pitch among his celebrating teammates. Looking around, he saw Hermione running toward him, grinning widely, her bushy brown hair flying behind her. Harry started to grin in response when he realized she was running right past him. Ron stood not far behind him, his arms outstretched to receive Hermione's enthusiastic hug.  
  
Harry looked away, somewhat at a loss. Ginny was smiling and waving and he nearly started over to her when he realized she, like Hermione, was looking past him.  
  
Oh yeah, he thought. Dean.  
  
Harry turned away from the cheers and congratulations and headed for the Gryffindor changing rooms, responding to the good wishes of some scattered supporters somewhat absently.  
  
Harry didn't really have an opportunity to talk to Ron and Hermione until later that evening when people had gathered in the Gryffindor common room for an impromptu victory party. Ron and Seamus had visited Dobby in the kitchens and returned with enough drinks and puddings to sicken a small army. Ginny had hung a number of Fred and George's latest - Laughing Lanterns - around the room. These lights were designed to change colors at the sound of laughter. The effect was rather like having a party inside a very large kaleidoscope. Dean had drawn some banners for the walls. Most were Gryffindor lions in various poses including one in which the lion sat squarely atop a badger. One, however, was a rather luridly colored rendition of Harry knocking Malfoy down with his broom. Hermione was able to fill him in regarding the details of that incident.  
  
"I didn't even see Malfoy behind me," she began, "and, really, if wouldn't have mattered if I had." She shrugged dismissively. "It is just Malfoy."  
  
"But what did he say to upset you so much?" Harry asked.  
  
"Well," Hermione hesitated a bit. "Maybe I'd best tell you the whole story. But Ron," she said, turning toward him with a stern expression, "you've got to promise not to go off and do something foolish. That's what Malfoy wants, to really get us in trouble. As it is, he got you to leave your position during the match today. That cost us some points. This goes for you, too, Harry. I must admit I enjoyed seeing Draco Malfoy cuffed about the head as much as anyone, but you really could have been in awful trouble."  
  
"I know," Harry nodded, "but he. Hey, why aren't I scrubbing out the loo with Filch, anyway?"  
  
"Well, that comes later in my story," Hermione answered. "You see, just before you dived out of the way of that bludger, Malfoy sat down next to me and started talking. He said he'd seen me arrive at King's Cross with Remus and he wondered how I felt about the Ministry creating a werewolf sanctuary. He wanted to know if Remus liked it there. Then, he said a lot more rubbish about how good it is that the werewolves would be locked away - safety for the public. He was making some rather nasty remarks about muggle-borns when Ron started our direction. That was when you showed up and you know what happened then."  
  
"But you still haven't said how Harry got away without detention," Ron said. "Wish I'd have helped you, Harry. We could have knocked the blighter right down to the pitch."  
  
"Ron!" said Hermione reproachfully. "Well, what you didn't notice, Harry, was that everyone noticed you. Everyone had seen you weren't really watching the match. Seamus even commented on it to the crowd. When Ron left the goal posts to come our way, then it was obvious something was wrong. In fact, Professor Snape and Professor Flitwick were already there when you had words with Malfoy. They heard and saw enough to know that it wasn't you making trouble. Malfoy's got detention with Snape as soon as Madame Pomfrey heals the cut over his ear, his nose and his black eye."  
  
Harry nodded, looking thoughtful.  
  
"But Hermione," he said, "What else did he say to you? It isn't like you to get worked up about one of Malfoy's stories. You didn't believe that rubbish about a werewolf sanctuary, did you?"  
  
Hermione looked quite downcast as she pulled a newspaper from her pocket and held it out to Harry.  
  
"Oh Harry, I'm sorry. I saw it in The Prophet at breakfast but I didn't say anything. You and Ron had enough on your minds with the match. I was planning to tell you afterwards, honestly. I'm afraid what Malfoy said is true."  
  
Gaping in amazement, Harry took the paper and, with Ron looking over his shoulder, read the cover story.  
  
It was as upsetting as Hermione had guessed it would be. According to the report, the Ministry had responded to the recent werewolf-like attacks by creating a special compound for werewolves. The called it a sanctuary and a community, but Harry knew better. All werewolves were required to relocate to the facility by the next full moon.  
  
"The next full moon is later this week," Ron observed. "That doesn't give them much time. Are they allowed to leave again, after the full moon?"  
  
"Apparently not," answered Hermione, "and any werewolf who fails to comply will be considered a criminal fugitive."  
  
So far, Harry hadn't spoken but continued to stare in numb disbelief at the paper in his hand. He looked up at Ron.  
  
"It's just like Annwyl said. She said this would happen. Your mum wondered what would happen if Fudge overreacted and this is exactly what Annwyl said."  
  
"Harry," Hermione said hesitantly, "do you think Remus will go?"  
  
"Well, if he doesn't, he'll have to go into hiding and that will be even harder for him than it was for." Harry swallowed. "It won't be easy for him to hide. He's not an animagus."  
  
Ron sat down on the sofa beside Hermione, his arm lightly around her shoulders.  
  
"I think you're going to have to trust Dumbledore to help him, Harry," Ron sighed. "There just isn't anything we can do."  
  
"Yeah, trust Dumbledore. After all, he looked after Sirius," Harry's voice was bitter.  
  
"Harry," Hermione said sharply, "you know that Dumbledore isn't to blame for Sirius' death."  
  
"No, that was all my fault, wasn't it?" Harry snapped, coming to his feet.  
  
Ron rose as well, facing Harry.  
  
"That's not what she meant and you know it. The only blame belongs to.Voldemort."  
  
Both Harry and Hermione looked at Ron in surprise. It was the first time Ron had ever referred to the Dark Lord by name, though, clearly, the word hadn't come out easily.  
  
"Yeah," Harry answered slowly, "yeah, I know. It's just." he sighed heavily. "I think I'll go up to bed."  
  
Harry made his way up the stairs, his feet and his thoughts feeling leaden. A part of him hoped Ron would follow, insisting that Harry talk it all out, making sure Harry wasn't alone. Just as the staircase began to turn out of sight of the common room, Harry turned, almost expecting to see Ron not far behind. Instead, he saw Ron and Hermione settled back in the sofa, watching the fire in companionable silence. Harry trudged up the remaining steps to bed. 


	9. Lapses

Disclaimer: Please see previous chapters.  
  
Author's Notes: Sorry about the wait, everyone. I hope this chapter was worth it for you all. Thanks to my beta, Moriah, for being an Almighty Beta! Thanks, too, to my reviewers who are the very best! Check out my webpage for the link to LotM artwork.  
  
HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND  
  
Chapter 9 - Lapses  
  
The full moon was fast approaching and Harry's worry over Remus increased practically exponentially as it drew near. The morning after his talk with Hermione and Ron, Harry borrowed a copy of The Daily Prophet, devouring the details of the new Ministry policy on werewolves. Nothing was the least encouraging. Cornelius Fudge was smugly confident in his actions.  
  
"By building this lovely new community specifically for werewolves, the wizarding world is providing them with comfortable, secure accommodations," Fudge was quoted as saying. "It is just right for their kind, don't you think?"  
  
Looking at the view of the facility featured behind the minister, Harry wondered how anyone could believe that this was a 'community' and a 'sanctuary.' With gray, dismal buildings and bare, rocky landscape, it needed only a fence topped with a coil of muggle barbed wire to complete the picture.  
  
Finally, on the eve of the Ministry's deadline for reporting to the werewolf facility, Harry could stand it no longer. Brushing aside Ron and Hermione's attempts to reassure him, Harry set out after dinner to see Dumbledore. As he rounded the corner into the corridor where the stone gargoyle stood, Harry was relieved to see the headmaster approaching.  
  
"Ah, Harry," greeted Dumbledore, "I've been expecting a visit from you. I imagine you are concerned for Moony just now, are you not?" The old man gave a somber smile. "Come with me, but remember, you must keep this to yourself. Tell no one, not even Mr. Weasley or Miss Granger. Safety lies in secrecy."  
  
Dumbledore led him downstairs, deep into the dungeons of the castle, to a passage Harry had never seen before. Stopping before an enormous carved wooden door, the headmaster raised his wand to a large rune in the center. The rune glowed red and Harry heard the heavy lock open with a thud. Dumbledore turned to Harry.  
  
"The lock is charmed to respond to certain wands, yours among them. Simply touch your wand tip to the rune."  
  
Swinging open the massive door, Harry found a large chamber, one corner of which was a comfortably furnished sitting area. The opposite side had plain but comfortable bedroom furnishings. There were two doors in the wall opposite Harry. One stood ajar and from it Harry could hear the clash of blades. He looked questioningly at Dumbledore who merely nodded and crossed to enter the next room.  
  
Two fencers faced each other in a bout. One was obviously, by her stature and the hair bundled back out of her way, Annwyl. Despite the mask hiding his features, Harry knew her opponent must be Remus. The two fencers were so focused on their bout, they did not hear Harry and Dumbledore arrive. Harry stood looking on in awe at the skill and ferocity they displayed. Though foil fencing generally involves more subtle, graceful motions than most forms of combat, it is no less aggressive - a point made only too clearly as thrusts were parried and counter-attacked at the lightning speed.  
  
Harry remembered what Remus has once told him - that volatile emotions were part and parcel of lycanthropy, that this volatility was more pronounced just before the full moon, that Annwyl had taught him to fence to help him control this volatility. As he watched Remus bouting, Harry thought he had a better understanding of what Remus meant and a better understanding of Remus himself. Certainly, the strength of emotion being channeled into the man's movements was obvious. It was equally clear that the concentration required to keep the aggression contained by the rules of fencing was no small achievement. The ferocity of Remus' movements was made graceful and, somehow, touching, by the tight control visibly exerted over it.  
  
They stood in the doorway some time before, in a particularly heated exchange of attacks, Remus managed to land a touch squarely in Annwyl's midriff. It was so forceful a blow, the breath was knocked out of her for a moment. When she had regained her breath, she straightened up and, pulling off her mask, smiled at Remus.  
  
"Now, why didn't you make that move sooner? Or do you enjoy pushing us both to the brink of exhaustion?"  
  
"From the looks of him," said Dumbledore, stepping forward, "I'd say he does. Remus that was an impressive display. No one bests my Annie out of luck."  
  
"Of course not," Annwyl laughed. "And Remus, I threw this bout so you'd have some time with Harry. At least, that's my official version of events." She grinned broadly as she packed away her foil.  
  
Remus assumed a comical look of injured dignity and transfigured his attire to normal.  
  
"Threw the bout, did you? Well, come round after the full moon and we'll go another. I'll have you then, as well, Wyl. See if I don't." He turned to Harry and Dumbledore with a smile. "Headmaster, I appreciate your hospitality, but I hope no one," he looked pointedly at Harry, "will get into any trouble over me."  
  
"Nonsense, Remus. Not another word. We've been through this already. The Order must look after its own. The only way to bring an end to this is to capture an attacker alive. We need you safe, my boy."  
  
Dumbledore placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, propelling him forward.  
  
"I didn't come down to argue with you Remus. I just wanted to see that you were comfortable. Besides, Harry has been concerned, so I brought him along." He nodded amiably and turned to go. "I shall check in again, soon. Annie, my dear, I am off to the kitchens, questing after mulled pumpkin cider. Will you join me?"  
  
Remus watched them go with a thoughtful look, then turned to Harry.  
  
"Harry, I'm glad to see you, but you needn't worry about me. It can't be long before we catch one of Voldemort's soul-imposed attackers. That will settle all this with Fudge. Besides, trust Dumbledore to look after things. It'll be alright."  
  
Harry frowned at Remus' last remarks and stared at the toes of his trainers. It couldn't be a good sign that Remus was beginning to sound like Ron. Feeling Remus' gaze fixed on him, Harry reluctantly looked up again. He really didn't want Remus to pretend to take things so lightly. Harry knew Remus had to be as upset and worried as anyone in Britain at this moment.  
  
"What else do you want me to say, Harry?" asked Remus, as if Harry had spoken his thoughts aloud. "Yes, it's bad, but if I don't hold on to the belief that I am safe here and the Order will make this right, I'll not be able to function. If I panic now, I'll be worse than useless."  
  
Harry couldn't answer, his mouth hanging open in surprise. Remus had never, in Harry's hearing, admitted to any fear for himself. He knew he ought to feel some compassion for this man who had been his father's friend as well as his own, but he did not. Instead, Harry felt a strange anger well up inside him, unbidden. It was an echo, perhaps, of the anger he had felt in Dumbledore's office that morning after Sirius' death. It was anger that Remus should show weakness and fear now, when Harry wanted to berate him for his usual calm.  
  
"I'm glad you came here," Harry said stiffly. "I guess I shouldn't have worried. Ron and Hermione said Dumbledore would take care of things."  
  
Remus narrowed his eyes at Harry's tone but did not comment. Instead, he clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, steering him toward the door.  
  
"Well, then, you should have listened to them. Things are fine. I'm fine. Look, I want to hear all about Ron and Hermione. Wyl wouldn't say much. Just grinned and told me to ask you. It's getting late now, though, and, frankly, I could use my beauty sleep before the full moon. Come see me after and tell me everything, okay?"  
  
Harry nodded and mustered a smile as he bade Remus goodnight.  
  
The full moon came and went without incident. Remus remained safely tucked away in the dungeon chambers and Harry relaxed slightly. True, Remus was still considered a fugitive. In fact, his name and picture had appeared in a special edition of The Daily Prophet, along with the handful of other werewolves who had 'refused the Ministry's hospitality' and had not moved into the werewolf sanctuary. Although Harry would have thought the Ministry would come to Hogwarts right away, looking for Remus, no one came. Apparently, Fudge was still anxious to regain some measure of Dumbledore's favor and so, left the school undisturbed.  
  
The first Hogsmeade weekend arrived the day after the full moon. Harry considered skipping the trip into town in favor of a visit to Remus but that would have meant some sort of excuse to Ron and Hermione. Harry had obeyed the headmaster's wishes and had said nothing about Remus' presence in the castle, so rather than lie to his friends, Harry decided to visit after going into Hogsmeade. He was fairly certain he'd be able to get away for a bit, then, and he could bring back some samples of Honeydukes' finest at the same time.  
  
The walk into town was a fine time for Harry. Ron and Hermione still bickered on a regular basis, but never got so angry as to really call it a row. To be sure, there were times Harry felt rather in the way, but mostly, he was just too happy to have everyone on speaking terms again to let himself think about it much.  
  
They were, again, discussing who or what had awakened Harry in the night several weeks before.  
  
"Harry, are you certain you weren't just dreaming?" Ron asked. "I know you said the carafe had been shifted, but you could've done that in your sleep. You know, you thrash about a bit, bump your Charms text and nearly push the carafe off. Knocking into that bloody great book could easily have brought you round."  
  
"Well," Harry considered," I suppose I might have done. Still, I don't think that was what woke me." He frowned in thought.  
  
"Dumbledore said they found nothing out of the ordinary about that carafe," Hermione mused absently, twirling the stem of a russet leaf in her fingers. "What if the carafe had nothing to do with it? What if they merely bumped into Harry's bedside table by mistake? If they weren't there to do something to Harry's water, then what were they doing?"  
  
Before either of the boys could offer her an answer, their talk was brought to an abrupt halt by the arrival of Neville Longbottom.  
  
"Hullo," he said, puffing slightly. "I'm glad I caught you up. I heard Zonko's is going to be an official retailer for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes and figured you lot would be on your way to check it out. Mind if I join you?"  
  
So, naturally, Zonko's was their first stop once they reached Hogsmeade. Harry was quite glad to get into the shop, now crowded with Hogwarts students, all stocking up on dungbombs, wet-start fireworks, and, especially, the latest Wheezes from Fred and George. This was his first time in Hogsmeade since his first vision of an attack. It gave his stomach a queer sort of leaden sensation walking into the busy town square, and memories of what he had seen flooded his mind. The others did not seem struck by any such thoughts and Harry was only too glad to lose himself in their enthusiasm over canary creams, Whizbangs, and an array of Formation Fairies.  
  
From Zonko's, they made directly for Honeydukes' where they happily laid in a supply of sweets to last until their next visit. Harry opted for a variety box of sweets for Remus, not knowing what might be a favorite. Ron, his ears tinged the customary red, presented Hermione with a delicate- looking spun sugar flower, its sugar crystals sparkling like so many dewdrops. She rewarded him with a smile which caused Ron's face to match his ears.  
  
Now laden with jokes and sweets, the four went out into the bright autumn sunshine. There was a small public area with a few benches place under the surrounding trees. Harry realized, with a lurch, that this was the very spot of the attack he had seen. The contrast between the attack and the present should have been reassuring to Harry. It was a lovely late morning full of sunshine, brilliant autumn leaves and the bustling sounds of the street filled with Hogwarts students. It was a cheerful, pleasant, normal scene. Yet, it was the normality that disturbed Harry most of all. It had been a normal evening in his vision before Voldemort had set those sham werewolves loose.  
  
Harry shook himself and tried to focus on the present. Hermione was talking of needing a new bottle of ink, Ron was going on about butterbeer and Neville was pointing at a bench on the far side of the open area.  
  
"Look, over there," Neville said with a rush of enthusiasm that surprised Harry. "Isn't that Luna, there? C'mon, let's go say hello."  
  
He struck off across the grass with the others following willingly behind. Luna was sitting on a bench reading, as always, the current copy of The Quibbler, her wand in its usual place, tucked behind one ear. Neville stood before her and Hermione sat down on the bench beside her.  
  
"Hello, Luna," she said brightly. "Anything, er, interesting in the news today?"  
  
Luna looked up with a faraway sort of smile.  
  
"Oh, it's all the usual. Fudge has enlarged his army of heliopaths, but, of course, that is to be expected with things the way they are."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes as he looked away quickly and Hermione bit her lip. Neville, however, sat down between the girls, his eyes round with credulity.  
  
"How can Fudge control heliopaths?" he asked Luna. "That sounds really dangerous. And where is he getting them, anyway?"  
  
"What say we discuss this over butterbeers?" Ron broke in before Luna could answer.  
  
Luna looked up at Ron interestedly, then at Hermione.  
  
"I should think, Ronald, that you and Hermione would want some time alone today. Isn't this your first actual date?"  
  
Harry realized with a start that Luna was right. One look at the pair's rosy countenances showed Harry that they hadn't needed Luna's reminder. He felt a guilty pang for not having thought of that himself. I should have sent them along into Hogsmeade on their own instead of making them do the polite for a tagalong all morning.  
  
"Absolutely," Harry spoke up cheerfully. "You two go on and we'll catch you up back at the castle for dinner."  
  
"Well," Hermione hesitated, "if you're sure you all don't mind, thank you." Ron added his thanks with a particularly goofy grin over his shoulder as they walked off.  
  
Harry watched them go, then turned back to Neville and Luna. Luna was deep in a description of how Cornelius Fudge must be breeding additional heliopaths for his army. Neville was listening with a rapt expression. Harry listened for awhile, but as the conversation turned to nargles and Crumple-horned Snorkacks, his attention began to wander. Thinking he may as well look around a bit more, he excused himself.  
  
He roamed about the square, exchanging greetings with some of the other students. The greetings were friendly, but Harry could feel more than a few stares. With the Ministry finally admitting that Harry had been telling the truth and the publicity which had, to Harry's dismay, followed the attack on the train, people were ogling him more than ever before. Even older students, who should have been over the novelty, were watching and whispering as he passed. Harry supposed he should be grateful that the interest was largely friendly. Hadn't he had enough sneering last year? Still, what he really wanted was to go about without anyone giving a flying knarl's arse about what he was up to.  
  
Pausing under a tree in a quiet area, Harry watched his fellow students. Everyone seemed smiling and happy as they enjoyed their freedom. Harry felt a rush of envy. No one else seemed burdened with memories of the Department of Mysteries, of the vicious attack on the train, of seeing a dementor kiss an innocent victim, of Voldemort.  
  
Hearing a familiar laugh and voice, Harry turned, smiling, to greet Ginny Weasley. She approached with a wave and a grin, towing a smiling Dean Thomas along in her wake.  
  
"Harry, why aren't you with Ron and Hermione? They're really just too funny!" She made some exaggerated kissing sounds. "Gah!"  
  
"Oh, well, you know," Harry grinned, a little embarrassed, "this would be their first chance for a date and all. I'm sure they'd like some time to themselves."  
  
"Right you are, lad," said Dean with feeling. "It isn't easy finding some quality time, you know?" With that, Dean led away a still-giggling Ginny. Harry returned her cheerful wave as they disappeared into a shop down the street.  
  
Somehow, Ginny's happy chatter had made Harry feel even more miserable. He was sulking and he knew it, but he didn't care. He felt as if one more smiling, happy conversation would drive him barking. Tiredly, he turned away from the town and headed for the Shrieking Shack on the outskirts. He would have liked to have gone to Sirius' cave, but even Harry felt that would be foolhardy, especially all alone. So, he settled for a perch on the rail fence surrounding the old shack. As he expected, he had no company which gave him plenty of opportunity to think. First, he tried reasoning with himself about Ron and Hermione.  
  
It isn't as though it was a surprise, he thought. Ron had been mooning about since fourth year and Hermione, well, Hermione isn't really the mooning type, but it wasn't hard to see that she really cares for Ron. And, they were really understanding last year when Cho and I.  
  
A sick feeling swept over Harry, overpowering that thought. In his mind's eye, he was seeing Cho again for the first time, seeing her smile at him on the quidditch pitch, seeing her dance at the Yule Ball, conjuring a swan patronus, looking up at him underneath the mistletoe.  
  
Now, Harry was sick. He jumped off the fence, retching and clutching at a post for support. He clung there for a bit, waiting for the nausea to subside. When it felt as though his stomach had settled back where it belonged, he headed straight for the castle, deliberately thinking as little as possible.  
  
By the time Harry made it back to the school, he was somewhat more in control, but still doing his level best to keep his mind a blank. If Snape could have seen the effort Harry was putting into that, even he wouldn't have been able to accuse Harry of slacking off on practice for Occlumency lessons.  
  
Harry had carried along his invisibility cloak for his visit to Remus in the dungeons, so, finding a secluded corner, he pulled it from his bag and draped it over himself. Thus hidden, he made his way, quietly, down, down deep into the dungeon passageways. At last, he reached the heavy, rune-marked door. Knocking lightly first, Harry touched his wand tip to the rune and swung the door open. Remus stood before the door smiling as Harry pulled the cloak from his head.  
  
"Harry! Come in, come in! I didn't expect to see you so soon. Have you had tea?"  
  
As Harry came into the room, he looked toward the sitting area where a merry fire crackled in the fireplace. A girl sat curled up in a large, tweed armchair near the hearth.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry," said Harry, confused, "I didn't expect. er, I didn't mean to interrupt."  
  
The girl laughed and motioned him to sit.  
  
"Harry, best have your eyes tested. You must need new glasses." The girl was Annwyl in faded muggle jeans and an oversize woolen jumper. In those clothes, with her hair tied back in a messy sort of twist, she looked quite a lot younger. Feeling a bit wrong-footed, Harry took a seat on a low ottoman beside her chair. Remus, chuckling softly, took a seat on Harry's other side.  
  
"Wyl, I told you those muggle clothes make you look like a kid." He wagged a finger at her. "Not very dignified, Professor."  
  
Annwyl pulled a face and looked back to Harry.  
  
"Don't pay him any mind. Tell us about your day. Where did you go? What sort of rubbish is Zonko's peddling for the Weasley twins?"  
  
Although Harry had spent a good deal of time with Annwyl over the summer, he wasn't sure what to make of her sudden affability. She had never been unpleasant to him, but this was far beyond her general polite neutrality. Remus, too, was a puzzle. Harry had not forgotten talking with him that night in the garden at headquarters.  
  
"Once, I could trust Annwyl King with my life. Now. just be on your guard, Harry."  
  
Remus certainly behaved now as if he trusted her completely. What had changed? He wanted to ask, but as Annwyl was right there, it was hardly the time. It would have to wait for a time when Harry could see Remus alone.  
  
So, Harry accepted the tea and biscuits Remus offered and recounted his trip into Hogsmeade. He left out how long he'd sat in front of the Shrieking Shack and his reason for coming back early. Still, when he mentioned leaving Neville and Luna after Ron and Hermione's departure, Remus and Annwyl gave each other a significant look. Harry noticed and was somewhat nettled.  
  
"What?" he demanded testily. "I didn't go roaming around in the forest alone or something. I don't need to go about with a nursemaid."  
  
"Of course not," Remus answered in an appeasing tone. "It just sounded a bit dull and lonely once you separated from your friends." He looked searchingly at Harry. "I thought that might be why you came back so early."  
  
Harry now found the worsted rug before the fire of prime interest and didn't answer.  
  
"Well, and I thought," said Annwyl cautiously, "that it sounded, perhaps, a bit lonely even with your friends."  
  
Harry's shoulders sagged in defeat. He didn't look up, but nodded slightly.  
  
"Oh." Remus' eyes widened in understanding. "You know, Harry, when James and Lily first got together, it seemed to the rest of us that they had dropped off the planet altogether. They were so caught up in being with each other, they rather forgot about being with anyone else." Remus smiled, remembering. "In fact, as I recall, Sirius got fairly snaky about it. Played some awful pranks on James to get his attention. Even transfigured his hair one day into an actual dust mop. That got James' attention, I'll tell you."  
  
Harry couldn't help grinning at that.  
  
"Well, that couldn't have been much of a trick. His hair would have been nearly that already," Harry responded, ineffectually flattening his own tousled fringe with his hand.  
  
"Too right," chuckled Remus. "In the end, though, Sirius had no influence on them whatever. They reappeared in their own good time. It was as if once they'd become comfortable together, they were again able to be comfortable with us."  
  
"A process which I expect would have gone on more smoothly without Sirius' nonsense," Annwyl put in, smiling.  
  
"Probably," agreed Remus. "Does this help, Harry?"  
  
"Yeah," sighed Harry, "I guess it does. You're saying if I just leave them alone, Ron and Hermione will sort themselves out and we'll be able to carry on from there, is that it?" Remus nodded and Harry smiled slightly. "Well, that sounds better than turning Ron's head into a mop, anyway."  
  
It was nearing dinnertime, so Harry rose to take his leave, thinking he might catch Ron and Hermione as they came back from Hogsmeade. He hadn't let them go with very friendly feelings and felt anxious to show them he was, indeed, happy for them. As he moved out into the center of the room, he felt an odd shiver pass through him. The room seemed to dissolve around him, leaving him standing. well, nowhere. The word 'quill' drifted through his otherwise blank consciousness along with all the related images as they appeared during his Occlumency lesson. A sudden cold wave swept over Harry and he shuddered, coming to himself again. With the return to his senses came a profound sense of fatigue, such that his knees gave way and he dropped to the floor.  
  
Harry had no way of knowing how long the strange feeling had lasted, but he figured it couldn't have been long, as Remus and Annwyl were only just reaching his side, shocked looks on their faces.  
  
"What happened?" Harry asked, reaching for Remus to pull himself up.  
  
"Steady, now," Remus cautioned, hauling Harry to his feet and guiding him back to a chair. "I don't know what happened, Harry. One minute you were fine and the next you came over sort of queer and dropped like a stone. What did you feel? Is it your scar?"  
  
"No," Harry ran his hand over his forehead tiredly, "my scar feels fine. Everything just, sort of, went away all of a sudden," he said and told about the images of quills from his Occlumency lesson.  
  
Annwyl had said nothing, but sat frowning at the fire. Upon hearing that the images matched those from his lesson with Snape, her frown deepened and she looked sharply, first at Harry, then Remus. Still, she didn't speak.  
  
"What's on your mind, Wyl?" Remus asked, noticing her look.  
  
"I'm not sure I like the idea of Harry having flashbacks to Snape's lesson that make him collapse. I'm going to get Albus. Wait for me."  
  
Harry watched listlessly as the heavy door swung shut behind her. A voice in his fogged brain nagged at him that he ought to talk to Remus about Annwyl. Harry shifted a little fretfully. He felt too spent to deal with those questions just now, but the voice kept prodding. There might not be another such opportunity for a long while. Harry did his best to marshal his thoughts and dove in.  
  
"Remus, just before term started, you told me to be on guard with Annwyl. What changed?"  
  
Remus looked sober and turned away from Harry. He didn't answer and Harry began to worry that he had offended him. Then, Remus began to speak softly.  
  
"Annwyl is as potentially dangerous as she was when she turned up on your front step on Privet Drive. That hasn't changed. What I said, then, about her information is still true. She has been able to tell us things about Voldemort and his supporters that even Snape can't equal," Remus sighed, "and, as I said before, it often seems her information is too reliable for comfort. I've been trying to trace her movements over the last two years, but I've learned nothing."  
  
"But," Harry said, sounding apologetic, "you've been spending loads of time together lately and. well, you seem to be getting on pretty well. Are you trying to tell me you still don't trust her?"  
  
"Harry, this is hard to explain," Remus answered, turning to face him. "Before Wyl's disappearance fifteen years ago. we were professionals, Harry. Colleagues in very dangerous work. I knew how foolish, risky and hopeless it was, but I couldn't help that. I never told her anything, of course, but I." He ran a hand through his hair distractedly.  
  
"Now, seeing her again, talking to someone with whom I have common experience. Harry, I know you are mourning for Sirius. But, I am too. Wyl is like getting a piece of my old life back. I'm afraid, sometimes, it is much too easy to forget to be cautious. It's no excuse, of course." Remus smiled grimly. "Never fear, Harry. I'll be more careful, I promise."  
  
Harry was spared answering by the return of Annwyl, herself. Albus Dumbledore was close on her heels.  
  
"Well, Harry," Dumbledore said briskly, "let's have a look at you." The old man knelt beside Harry's seat. "I'd also like you to tell me just what happened."  
  
When Harry had finished his story and the headmaster had looked him over, Harry risked a question of his own.  
  
"Sir, what happened? Does learning Occlumency have any side effects or anything?"  
  
"No, no," Dumbledore replied getting to his feet. "I don't believe your Occlumency lessons have anything to do with whatever occurred. Just what did happen, I'm afraid I can't say. How do you feel now? Still fatigued?"  
  
"Harry, you fell pretty hard," Remus interjected. "Maybe you'd better let Madame Pomfrey have a go at you."  
  
"I don't think that would be wise," Annwyl said quietly. The friendly openness of earlier in the afternoon was gone and her usual cool detachment seemed, once again, firmly in place. "I don't think what happened here should leave this room for a number of reasons, not the least of which is how it would risk letting it be known that you are here, Remus." She said nothing of the other reasons and Harry couldn't quite bring himself to ask.  
  
"Remus, I must take Annie's part in this. Harry seems only in want of a bit of rest. I can't allow your safety to be risked. Besides which, until I feel we have some reasonable hypothesis to explain Harry's, er, event, I don't believe I'm comfortable having anyone else know of it." Here, Dumbledore turned a keen eye on Harry. "Understand, Harry?"  
  
Harry nodded and rose unsteadily to his feet. He mustered a smile for Remus.  
  
"I'm fine, really, just feeling well knackered. If I go straight back to Gryffindor tower, I should be able to catch a quick nap before dinner and no one will notice the difference."  
  
Scooping up his bag and adjusting the invisibility cloak over himself, Harry made his way up and out of the dungeons. Once in the entry of the castle, he ducked into a niche behind a statue of a rather grim old witch, removed his cloak and stuffed it in his bag. That done, he climbed up to the tower along with other returning students. As he had predicted to Remus, no one paid much attention to him when he headed straight for his dorm and a nap.  
  
* * *  
  
Halloween was only a few days away now and the whole school was talking about the coming feast. Ginny, thanks to her success in decorating the Gryffindor common room, had been nominated along with a handful of other fifth years, to help the professors decorate the Great Hall. She was particularly enthusiastic, to Ron and Harry's amusement and Hermione's mild disgust, over being excused from classes for that day. Hagrid was raising pumpkins as he did each year, and Harry and the others paused to admire their size as they passed on the way to Care of Magical Creatures.  
  
Despite the worry over attacks, Remus, and that strange lapse in the dungeons, Harry had to admit things really didn't seem so bad. Transfiguration was coming along nicely for him and he was now able to transfigure several articles of his own clothing at once. It didn't actually matter much here at Hogwarts, but, obviously, it would have its uses in an auror's work as part of rudimentary undercover work.  
  
Charms was particularly gratifying, as they were actually studying jinxes and counter-curses beyond any that Harry had ever come across in the Triwizard tournament or the D. A. He was especially fond of the Amputare jinx which, when coupled with the name of the appendage of the caster's choice, would make the victim believe his or her appendage had been removed. It did no actual harm, of course, but was very effective in immobilizing an opponent's wand arm.  
  
Even Potions was going well. To be sure, the students found Professor King rather exacting and something less than approachable, but after years with Snape, no one really expected a friendly chat in Potions. Annwyl was coolly competent and more than capable of conveying the sense of the lesson to her classes. All in all, for the Gryffindor students in particular, Potions lessons had never been so pleasant. Only Draco Malfoy seemed truly dissatisfied and as he was heavily outnumbered, he kept largely to himself during lessons. Of course, he could be heard criticizing nearly everywhere else. He was careful, however, to steer clear of Professor King and there had been no trouble.  
  
Really, now that Hagrid had shifted lessons from graphorns to much more controllable pogrebins, Harry's only complaint about lessons was having Snape for Defense Against the Dark Arts. The former Potions Master was every bit as unpleasant teaching this subject as he had ever been in Potions. After one particularly testy session, Ron stalked down the corridor toward his next class, muttering.  
  
"Blimey, Harry! You'd think that snarky bugger would be at least a bit more tolerable now that he finally had the chance to teach Defense. But you know, I think he may actually be worse."  
  
Harry was inclined to agree. Snape continued his favorite lessons pastime of badgering the Gryffindors, Harry in particular. One might have thought that it would be better, since Defense was far and away Harry's strongest subject. Instead, Snape seemed to take Harry's skill as a personal insult and never missed an opportunity to quiz him before the rest of the class or use him as a guinea pig to demonstrate a new attack and defense sequence. As often as not, Harry left Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons with a fresh crop of aching muscles and bruises.  
  
Dueling Club was going along at full speed these days, and, while Snape still skulked about in the background like a greasy, black vulture, Annwyl patiently taught them, first with fencing techniques and then, applying those concepts to magical dueling. They had come along so well, she was now introducing techniques for manipulating one's opponents into, essentially, throwing themselves onto one's weapon point, or into the path of a spell.  
  
"Tonight, ladies and gentlemen," Annwyl had said, "we will be learning the delicate strategy of the feint."  
  
Next to Harry, Seamus promptly staged an exaggerated swoon, falling back into the arms of a snickering Dean Thomas. A ripple of light laughter moved through the room but died sharply when Annwyl turned her chill gaze on the disruptor.  
  
"As you seem to have an excess of enthusiasm tonight, Mr. Finnigan, you may come forward and help me demonstrate the correct technique."  
  
All the rest of that evening, they practiced drawing out their opponents with the sham attack that was a successful feint.  
  
Remus left the castle the day before Halloween with promises to Harry that he would stay in touch as much as his work for the Order would allow. In a note, delivered to Harry by school owl the morning of his departure, Remus wrote,  
  
Remember, Harry. The sooner we can catch a soul-imposed in the act, the sooner the Ministry can be forced to close that werewolf camp. Time is against us, as I'm sure you've guessed. Every day, I expect a Banner headline across The Prophet warning us that the werewolves have gone over to Voldemort. Goodness knows, the Ministry is pushing them that way even now. But, Harry, try not to worry. I promise I'll be careful, but I have to go do what I can to help restore even limited rights to myself and others like me. I'll see you again at the next full moon.  
  
Halloween was a lovely day of soft, golden, autumn sunshine and clear, crisp air. For the students and faculty, such a day was near torture. Lessons carried on, despite the holiday, but it cannot be truthfully said that much learning took place. Everyone was thoroughly distracted by the weather and the anticipation of the feast that evening. It was a genuine relief all around when lessons were, at last, dismissed. Most made use of their time before the feast by heading directly outdoors to enjoy what remained of the day, Ron, Hermione and Harry among them.  
  
Harry sat on a large tree stump, gazing out at the craggy hilltops which surrounded the school. Ron and Hermione were quite close by, but rather too caught up in one another for much conversation with anyone else. Harry sighed and, remembering Remus' advice, simply sat, allowing their conversation to wash over him uninterrupted.  
  
So relaxed was he, that it hardly registered with Harry when the strange shiver ran through him and his surroundings slipped away. His mind was filled, then, with alternating images, first of Snape, then of Annwyl King. There was no pattern or connection between the images, but the faces were clearly recognizable. Then, the wave of cold brought Harry, shuddering, to his senses. This time, since he was already seated, he was spared the collapse, but the fatigue was no less present.  
  
"Harry! What in the world." Hermione saw him shudder and slump forward slightly, his face ashen. She was at his side in a flash, Ron leaping up in surprise at her outburst.  
  
"I'm. I'm okay, Hermione," slurred Harry, forcing himself upright. "Don't fuss. Ron, help me get to Dumbledore."  
  
With Ron and Hermione supporting him on either side, they made their way to the stone gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office.  
  
"Don't suppose you prefects know the password, do you?" Harry murmured tiredly.  
  
They shook their heads, looking worried.  
  
"Well, start naming sweets," suggested Harry. "We're bound to hit on it eventually."  
  
A dozen possibilities later, the gargoyle remained unmoved. Hermione stamped her foot in frustration.  
  
"Oh, this is silly! We can't stand here all day listing Honeydukes' inventory. Isn't there any way to just knock?"  
  
Harry blinked at her stupidly. It had never occurred to him before to simply knock. Propping Harry against a nearby pillar, Ron and Hermione searched the gargoyle, its niche, and the stone arch surrounding it for some sort of knocker or bell.  
  
"Ah, I don't believe it," muttered Ron, at last. "That can't be it." He fiddled with the gargoyle's hand and a gong sounded somewhere behind the wall. A moment later, the gargoyle came to life, moving aside to expose the staircase spiraling upward.  
  
Again, leaning on the other two for support, Harry turned to Ron.  
  
"What made that gong sound?"  
  
Ron pulled a face and helped Harry onto the stairs.  
  
"You've got to pull its finger."  
  
Reaching the top of the stairs, Hermione knocked on the door anxiously. It swung inward as Dumbledore's voice called out to them.  
  
"Miss Granger, what a pleasant surprise. Do come in." Dumbledore advanced on them, a crystal dish of sherbet lemons in one hand. Seeing Harry leaning heavily on Ron, the man's face changed instantly. "Get him to the couch, Mr. Weasley. Harry has it happened again?"  
  
Harry nodded and flopped down onto the couch, Ron and Hermione hovering nervously to one side.  
  
"Right, well, best have some tea, then," said Dumbledore briskly. "Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, please be seated." With his wand he floated two armchairs near the couch and conjured a silver tea service. "Miss Granger, will you pour?" Another flick of his wand produced a separate mug of something steamy and fragrant. This, he handed to Harry. "Drink this, Harry. Not as potent as Pepper-up, but much better tasting."  
  
Harry sipped at his drink cautiously. It did seem to give him back some strength and Dumbledore was right about the flavor. It tasted wonderfully. After a few more sips, Harry explained the latest lapse. Ron and Hermione, not having known about the first incident, were visibly alarmed. Dumbledore merely looked thoughtful.  
  
"I am still at a loss as to what this means," he said slowly. "Harry, I am asking again that you keep this to yourself. I am certain Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley understand the gravity of the situation and their discretion may be relied upon. Am I right? Excellent. Now, Harry, I think it would be best for you to stay here for the rest of the afternoon and rest. You will have no questions to answer here."  
  
Harry nodded, his eyes already drooping shut. He was dimly aware of someone shifting him so he was able to lie down. He felt a soft blanket cover him and knew no more.  
  
* * *  
  
Sitting with the other Gryffindors at the Halloween feast several hours later, Harry found it difficult to worry about the lapse or his thoughts during that time. The Great Hall was a dazzling sight, from Hagrid's enormous jack-o-lanterns to the hundreds of laughing lanterns and clouds of orange and purple fairy lights charmed into place by Ginny and the other students. Not even Malfoy's sarcasm could dampen the spirits at the Gryffindor table. Though, of course, Malfoy had made the effort. He had been right by the door as Harry, Ron and Hermione entered the Hall.  
  
"Well Potty, Weasel, er, and what do you want to call yourself, again" he sneered at Hermione. Ron flushed red with anger, but Harry had a grip on one arm and Hermione, the other. "Aww. what's the matter, Potter? You're looking a bit peaky. These epic lovers turning your stomach, as well?"  
  
Harry let go of Ron's arm and the two of them were about to give Malfoy some interesting new features when Madame Hooch came through the door behind them.  
  
"Really, now. It's bad enough having you lot at one another's throat on the quidditch pitch, but brawling at dinner is too much. Five points from both your houses. Now, do at least pretend you are able to control yourselves."  
  
Without further delay, Hermione had hustled them over to the table where they now sat, enjoying the array of favorite dishes.  
  
Seamus was only halfway through telling the latest piece of juicy gossip he'd picked up when Harry suddenly rose to his feet, his face and body rigid with shock.  
  
Harry found himself in a corridor which, though familiar, he couldn't quite place. As he walked along toward some double doors ahead of him, he heard sounds of chaos around him. Crashes and bangs when he hoped was only furniture being tossed about blended with screams of unseen people.  
  
Passing through the double doors, Harry saw the source of much of the noise. A battle raged before him, the figures lit by the eerie glow of whizzing curses. Some of the figures were attacking with their hands and, somehow, Harry knew they were soul-imposed. One figure drew Harry's attention. Unlike the others, she was dressed in white hospital pajamas, her black hair tangling around her shoulders as she struck out at anyone close enough to reach. With a dull horror, Harry realized, even before she turned in his direction, it was Cho Chang. Harry felt himself turn and walk away from the soul imposed attackers. He saw himself raise a wand and heard a familiar voice come from his mouth, A woman in front of him fell, shrieking, to the ground, writhing in pain from a curse Harry didn't recognize, but realized he had cast. Five more people fell before him, each screaming in agony from the hideous curses issuing from Harry's mouth.  
  
Then, the voice coming from Harry's mouth connected with memories in his mind. With a cry that nearly split his own head along his scar, Harry spun to look at his reflection in a glass door beside him. The face looking back at him was Percy Weasley. 


	10. Pain and Suffering

Disclaimer: please see previous chapters  
  
Author's Notes: I'm sending chocolate chunk cookies through cyberspace for all my reviewers! You guys are great. I'll list you all in the next chapter. *SMOOCH!* If you are interested in knowing more about the Arithmancy Hermione uses in this chapter, check out The Sorcerer's Companion Arithmancy Calculator at  
Enjoy, and PLEASE keep those reviews coming!  
  
HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND  
  
Chapter 10 - Pain and Suffering  
  
Harry had no sooner registered the fact that he was seeing through Percy Weasley's eyes, than another realization swept over him.  
  
I made Percy turn! I can make him stop and maybe stop the others!  
  
Without really knowing what he was doing or having any plan in mind, Harry concentrated as hard as he could on Percy's wand arm. If he could just get Percy to put away his wand for a moment, maybe he could get turned around and out of this place. Slowly, painfully slowly, Percy's arm began to lower. Just as Harry felt Percy's hand fall limply to his side, a searing jolt of pain shot through Harry's scar, making him cry out. Harry felt Percy stagger, as if from Harry's pain, then straighten, wand again raised.  
  
Harry could feel that he wouldn't get another chance to stop Percy. The horrible fighting raged on around him as Percy resumed torturing people with curses. Harry didn't know how his consciousness had come to be there, nor did he know how to escape. It seemed he was doomed to a front row view of the destruction. He was aware of Death Eaters around him, calling out to one another between curses. He saw Percy step casually over several bizarrely disfigured and, seemingly, lifeless bodies as the fight moved through the corridors.  
  
Harry was beginning to get desperate. He'd never been caught in one of the visions this long. The pain in his scar was still sharp, making it difficult to think. Then, as Percy turned the corner into another corridor, Harry saw a group of people approaching. In the group, Harry could see Kingsley Shacklebolt nearly a head taller than the others. Seeing, then, that they were aurors made Harry's heart leap. He saw Percy's wand lift and heard Percy's voice cry out several jinxes. Then, Harry felt an odd dissolving sensation and everything went black.  
  
***  
  
Voices. There were many voices, all talking at once in that tense undertone Harry had come to loathe. As if it could shut out the voices, Harry squeezed his eyes more tightly shut. He tried to roll over, away from the sounds, but his eyes popped open despite his efforts when he found he was unable to move.  
  
Even without his glasses, even in his semi-alert, immobile state, Harry could tell he was in the Hogwarts hospital wing. That realization stirred something in his memory. Harry frowned, trying to remember. He had just been in a hospital, it seemed, but surely the school hospital wing didn't have so many corridors as he was remembering. St. Mungo's? He'd only ever been there the one time, last Christmas when Mr. Weasley. - Weasley! Percy! Everything Harry had seen through Percy's eyes rushed over him in a torrent of horrible memories. Harry tried again to move, to rise. His whole body felt leaden and cold. He began to panic, but a warm hand on his shoulder stopped him abruptly.  
  
"Harry?" Hermione's voice was high and tight with nervousness. "Oh, I'm so glad you're awake, at last. No, don't try to move just yet. Madame Pomfrey said it would likely be bit before you could, anyway."  
  
Harry saw her blurred figure shift and felt his glasses slide into place on the bridge of his nose. It was a relief to be able to focus, although, beyond that, Harry found little to be glad about. The ward was full and several unfamiliar people, presumably, medical personnel, bustled to and fro. To his surprise, Harry even saw Professor Flitwick working alongside Madame Pomfrey. Hermione must have noticed his look.  
  
"The attack left such a mess at St. Mungo's that they've had to shift a number of patients to other facilities. Plus, there were so many injuries and casualties. Madame Pomfrey has called on several of the professors with some medical training to help."  
  
Looking around, Harry found he was now able to turn his head on the pillow. His voice was weak and rough, but leaning in, Hermione seemed to hear him.  
  
"How long.?" he rasped. "When. what? My voice?"  
  
"The attack was last night, Harry," Hermione answered. "It must be nearly three in the afternoon, now." She paused. "You really frightened everyone last night. We knew it was another vision, but we couldn't seem to bring you out of it, not even Professor Dumbledore. You yelled a lot of things we couldn't quite understand. I think you must have strained your voice. Then, you blacked out. You've been out every since."  
  
"Where's Ron?" Harry croaked.  
  
Hermione frowned. "He was here until early this morning. Then, Professor McGonagall came to get him. She said something about needing to find Ginny, as well." Her frown deepened. "No one will tell me what's happened."  
  
They were quiet for awhile - Hermione lost in her displeasure in being uninformed, Harry, because he was still finding it difficult to speak. The medi-wizards and witches continued to hurry back and forth between patients. Harry saw several patients released, only to be replaced by new patients. After awhile, the hectic pace slowed and a few beds remained empty once their occupants were released. The sun was slanting through the western windows when Professor Dumbledore approached and sat down opposite Hermione.  
  
"Miss Granger, Harry," Dumbledore's face was gray with fatigue and his greeting, lacking in warmth. "Harry, my boy. I'm glad to see you awake. Last night's episode was disturbing, to say the least."  
  
"Sir," Harry began, his voice unsteady as much with emotion as weakness, "Percy Weasley -"  
  
"Yes, Harry, I know. In fact, I have received a fairly complete report of last night's events. I shall be able to allow you to recuperate fully before requiring you to relive it all."  
  
"Excuse me, sir," spoke up Hermione, "but, can you tell us about Percy? Is that why Ron was called away?"  
  
Dumbledore nodded sadly. "I'm afraid so. Percy Weasley was involved in last night's attack at St. Mungo's and all appearances indicate he was with the attackers, not the Ministry."  
  
Hermione gasped, her eyes filling with tears. Slowly, she shook her head in disbelief.  
  
"He couldn't. He wouldn't. Sir, he must have been under Imperious. He'd never. oh, Harry."  
  
"Something was off about him, sir," Harry whispered. His voice cracked making him cough. "I was seeing it all through his eyes. For a moment, I was able to make him lower his wand."  
  
"Indeed?" Dumbledore's eyebrows knit in thought. "While not entirely hopeful sounding, it does make it seem that he was not acting of his own volition." He thought for a moment. "Yes. Well, I'll certainly need to hear any details you can give me, Harry, but that must wait until you are up and about again."  
  
The headmaster laid his hand lightly on Harry's shoulder for a moment. Then, standing, he bade them both a quiet good day and left the room. Madame Pomfrey had been waiting nearby, and as Dumbledore left, she approached, carrying a goblet of something.  
  
"Mr. Potter, it is time you got some rest. Miss Granger, you could do with some sleep, yourself. As dinner isn't for another two hours, I want you both to sleep until then." Madame Pomfrey raised Harry's head and shoulders a bit and helped him drink the potion she'd brought. "This should help your voice."  
  
"Madame Pomfrey," Hermione wheedled, "please let me stay. I'm not tired and I don't like leaving Harry." Her brown eyes were pleading.  
  
"Well," the nurse relented, "you can stay if you'll take that empty bed and rest there." She pointed to a vacant cot across from Harry. Hermione nodded and obediently took her place. Madame Pomfrey smoothed Harry's sheets and nodded to them both. "Now, no more talk. Rest!"  
  
***  
  
Madame Pomfrey did not let Harry go until the following evening. Only then, after much complaining on Harry's part and much poking and prodding on hers, did the nurse finally, although somewhat reluctantly, allow Harry to go down to the Great Hall for dinner. Harry made his way, slowly, down the great staircase and entered the Hall. He was greeted with curious stares and whispers and was genuinely relieved to drop into an open seat beside Hermione. Ron and Ginny had not yet returned. Knowing how much Mrs. Weasley worried about her children and how upsetting Percy's situation must be, Harry felt pretty certain the Weasley's would not be in a rush to send their two youngest back. Still, he felt both he and Hermione would be the better for having Ron with them again.  
  
Talk at dinner at the Gryffindor table was subdued and shied away from what had happened at St. Mungo's. Harry's classmates were treating Harry with the nervous kindness one often accords to a recovering invalid. While he didn't really want the sad, sympathetic smiles and pats on the shoulder, Harry found he preferred such attention to stares and questions. To be sure, Seamus had started to ask for details when Harry first sat down, but a nudge from Neville and a look from Dean silenced him.  
  
Later, when they had returned to their common room, Harry was the one to approach Hermione, his book bag in tow.  
  
"Hermione, please," he said earnestly, dropping onto the couch beside her, "I know Madame Pomfrey told me to take another day before going back to lessons, but I'll go mad if I don't have something to keep me busy. Help me catch up what I've missed?"  
  
Hermione looked up from her potions text in surprise.  
  
"Well, of course, Harry. You know you needn't even ask."  
  
More than two hours later, with most other students having gone up to their dorms for the night, Harry finally felt as though he had a handle on the material he had missed. Now, he and Hermione sat watching the fire.  
  
"I wonder how the Weasleys are doing," Hermione said softly.  
  
"I wonder where Percy is now," was Harry's grim reply.  
  
Behind them, the portrait hole opened and they turned to see Ron and Ginny crawling through. Hermione was on her feet in an instant and grabbed, first Ron, then Ginny, then Ron again, in a fierce hug. Ginny patted her back absently and stepped away, but Ron sighed deeply, his cheek resting on the top of Hermione's head.  
  
"Blimey, you can't think how good it is to see you two," he said, looking over to Harry. "You looked like nine shades of hell when I saw you last, mate."  
  
Harry came to stand beside them, giving Ron a grim sort of smile. He gripped his friend's shoulder, but couldn't find words. The gesture seemed enough, though, and Ron nodded wordlessly.  
  
Turning away to give Ron and Hermione a moment, Harry looked to Ginny. She was standing before the fire, hands outstretched to the blaze.  
  
"Ginny," he said, walking toward her, "it's good to have you back." As he got no reply, he swallowed and hazarded another attempt to speak to the silent girl. "Er, I know Dean has been anxious to see you. Would you like me to go get him? He's only just gone up a little while ago."  
  
"No, thank you, Harry." She settled on a pouf opposite Harry, her eyes still fixed on the flames.  
  
Hermione had led Ron to the couch where she and Harry had been studying. As they sat down, Harry caught Ron's eye, jerking his head in Ginny's direction, his eyebrows raised. Glancing at his sister, Ron frowned, shaking his head slightly in answer. Ginny didn't seem to take any notice.  
  
"Ron," Hermione said sympathetically, "you both look worn out. How is your family?"  
  
"Well, Mum's been crying a lot. She thinks it's her fault for fighting with Percy, that she should have kept him home. Dad's taking it hard, but he's holding up. You know how he is. Tough to keep down. He's sure we'll find Percy, lift whatever curse is on him and prove he didn't do any of that of his own free will." His face looked strained with uncertainty. It had been a long time since he and Percy had gotten on together, but this looked like more than Ron could take in.  
  
"But, maybe he didn't!" cried Hermione excitedly. "It was all in Harry's vision."  
  
"That's right," agreed Harry. "I saw the whole thing through Percy's eyes. I even made him lower his wand once. Something dodgy had to have been going on."  
  
"Does Dumbledore know?" asked Ginny, looking up at last.  
  
"Yes," answered Harry, "I'm supposed to see him in the morning to give him all the details."  
  
They were all quiet a moment, then Ginny stood.  
  
"I think I'm off, then," she said, too casually. "There'll be so much to make up tomorrow. Good night." Quietly, she made her way up the girls' staircase and out of sight. Ron watched her go, shaking his head.  
  
"She's been too quiet. She wouldn't even talk to Fred. Usually, she'll tell Fred anything."  
  
"Maybe she'll be better in the morning," Hermione said hopefully. "You know, you could do with some rest, too, Ron and I know Madame Pomfrey would have a snit if she knew Harry was still up."  
  
They bade each other good night and made their way to bed.  
  
Nearly three weeks passed with no new news of Percy. Ron went to lessons, studied with Hermione and worked hard at quidditch practice. However, everything he did lacked the enthusiasm Harry was used to seeing in his friend. Ron didn't avoid the subject, however, and talked often with Hermione and Harry about how Percy might have come to be at St. Mungo's and how he might have been controlled.  
  
"It must have been Imperius," he said for the umpteenth time.  
  
"But how was Harry able to influence him, then," Hermione asked again. "Harry said Dumbledore thinks Harry couldn't have made him lower his arm if another person had Percy under Imperius."  
  
Harry nodded absently in agreement. His attention had been drawn to a lone figure at a table on the far side of the room. Ginny Weasley was surrounded by books and parchment, just as the other fifth years revising for OWLs, but for more than ten minutes, she hadn't turned a page or written a word. Harry looked around, but Ginny's usual friends were seated in groups in other parts of the room. Dean was not in sight.  
  
Excusing himself, Harry went up to the sixth year boys' dorm. As he expected, he found Dean seated cross-legged on his bed, studying.  
  
"Hey, Dean," Harry said casually. He made a pretense of searching his trunk for a spare quill. "Studying alone tonight?" Dean only nodded, but Harry took a deep breath and forged ahead. "Ginny's managed to get a table downstairs. I'll bet she'd like some help with her OWL revision."  
  
"Harry, thanks for trying," Dean said, looking up, "but she's asked for a little time to herself. I don't like her being alone so much, but I can't force myself on her. Not much I can do."  
  
Harry was silent a moment. "I see your point. But, Dean," he said as he turned to go, "don't back off so much that she can't find you when she's ready, you know?" He closed the door softly and went back downstairs.  
  
It was well past midnight when Harry woke from yet another indistinct nightmare. He tried to just close his eyes but only tossed about, unable to relax back into sleep. Giving up, he thrust his feet into his trainers, shrugged into his dressing gown and headed downstairs. Waving his wand at he fireplace to ignite the logs, Harry sank onto the couch, his legs stretched onto the hearth. A small sound from the window seat behind him caused him to whip around, wand poised.  
  
"Ginny!" his voice cracked in exasperation. "Merlin's beard! I nearly petrified you! What are you doing here?"  
  
"Hush! Do you want to wake the whole tower? I wasn't sleepy, so I came down to watch the lake." She shrugged. "It's pretty in the starlight."  
  
Harry looked at her shrewdly. Her face was pale and pinched with dark shadows around her eyes. She looked as though she hadn't had a proper night's sleep in some time. She seemed thinner, too.  
  
"Ginny, would you like to talk?" Harry asked tentatively. "If you'd rather have Ron or Dean, I could go get them."  
  
"No, Harry, thank you. I'm fine, really. I just didn't feel sleepy. It's okay."  
  
"You really ought to talk to someone. Anyone can see you're not happy," Harry answered doubtfully. "Let us help."  
  
It was as if his words were sparks to kindling. Ginny's wan face suddenly glowed, her eyes snapping. Harry saw the change with blank amazement. She was furious.  
  
"It's a bit off - you giving advice on 'sharing the burden,' don't you think, Harry?" He gaped at her but her angry voice swept on. "You've got everyone that cares about you nearly frantic over your visions and episodes. Did you notice that you always seem extra tired before a vision? Hermione knows and is worried to death, but you never talk to her, so you wouldn't know that. Do you know you suddenly come over all sullen and moody and don't talk - sometimes for hours at a stretch? Mum and Ron have been watching you for ages. They are still owling one another about it, hoping you'll say something. But, NO! If you said something, you'd have to bloody well admit you feel something! Really, Harry, don't you ever get tired of playing hero?"  
  
Harry stared at her, his own face as red as hers. He felt anger such as he had not felt since the morning after Sirius' death, when he wrecked the headmaster's office in his rage and despair.  
  
"Look, I haven't exactly asked for any of this! Do you think I'm enjoying this? That I like 'playing hero' as you put it?" Harry was so worked up now, he felt he'd been running for miles. He was panting with the emotion of his tirade, his legs shaking. "Ginny, you have no idea -"  
  
"That's right, Harry," she interrupted, her voice suddenly cool. "We have no idea. That is just precisely the point."  
  
She turned and disappeared silently up the stairs. Harry watched her go, suddenly deflated. Somehow, that conversation hadn't gone the way he figured.  
  
***  
  
November went out with a blast of ice and snow. Hogwarts Castle looked like a model of itself done in white sugar. Inside, the students and professors were preparing for end of term exams. Although the sixth years found their load somewhat easier to bear after their wild OWL year, Harry, Ron and Hermione found they were busy enough. The first Saturday of December found them in the library, ostensibly working on an essay for Professor Flitwick on the theory and use of the Escribet charm which allowed one to carve words and images into hard surfaces with a wand.  
  
Ron was writing busily and Harry turned the pages of an enormous Charms book, scanning for any further information to help them. The Qwiktate Qwil Hermione had given him for his birthday scribbled busily across the parchment as he murmured facts to it. Hermione was staring at the table before her.  
  
"Harry," she said, looking up suddenly, "how did Annwyl know she would find you on Privet Drive over the summer?"  
  
"Huh?" Harry looked blank. "Dunno. I guess she figured it out while she was spying. It couldn't be that hard to find."  
  
"But it is, mate," Ron spoke up. "I heard Dad talking to Mum a couple of years ago. She was fussing about you being all alone with those relatives of yours and Dad told her that the location was a big secret. If you hadn't told me about Privet Drive, the twins and I would never have found you to fetch you away before second year."  
  
"But, Voldemort knows Dumbledore put me with the Dursleys," Harry frowned. "He told me so when I was in the graveyard. And, Umbridge knew where to send those dementors. Plus, there were those notices about underage magic. I don't think it was as secret as your dad said."  
  
"Dad might have been trying to unruffle Mum," Ron conceded.  
  
"Okay, so it really wouldn't have been hard for her to find you," Hermione said. "So, what was she doing there? If she had information about Voldemort, as she told the Order, why didn't she go straight to Dumbledore? It doesn't make sense."  
  
They sat thinking for a moment. Then Hermione spoke again.  
  
"I just feel like we're missing some bit of information that would explain some of this mess. Harry, how are you feeling? Think you're up to an extended Memorarae charm?"  
  
Half an hour later, they were seated on the floor of a disused classroom, the door locked securely behind them. Harry balanced his Contemplation Sphere carefully on his upturned palms.  
  
"I know it's a lot, Harry," Hermione was saying, "but I think we should have a look at all your memories of Annwyl. Maybe we'll pick up some clue we've missed."  
  
Harry nodded and took a deep breath. "Memorarae Annwyl King."  
  
More than two hours later, Harry set down the sphere and flopped back onto the stone floor. He had been unable to maintain the charm more than about fifteen minutes at a time, so he'd had to cast it a number of times until they'd seen all Harry's memories. Now, he was too exhausted to even begin to think about all they'd seen. After several minutes, Ron spoke.  
  
"Did anyone else notice Annwyl never calls him Voldemort? Odd, isn't it for Dumbledore's goddaughter? Generally, she's been calling him Dark Lord." Ron looked at the others and shrugged. "Just struck me, you know?"  
  
"I wonder how I could find out about that Hufflepuff she dueled with," mused Hermione. "It won't be easy to find."  
  
"Hagrid was here then," Harry said wearily. "He might know."  
  
"Yes, that's so. I'll try and see him tomorrow," Hermione said. "But, I'm going to make sure I have and excuse not to go with him to visit Grawp." She pulled a face.  
  
"Well, if you wait until after quidditch practice, Harry and I could go with you," Ron answered. "I don't suppose there's anyway to find out about that Exilae charm Annwyl claims they used to banish her. If it's a dark spell, I don't think it'll be in Flitwick's text."  
  
"I'll poke around in the library while you two are at practice. There are a few other things I want to check." Hermione turned to Harry. "Ron and I will see Hagrid, after. Maybe you could check back issues of The Daily Prophet, Harry. Madame Pince had every issue printed bound and shelved. I'd like to see the account of Annwyl's disappearance and if we split up the work, it'll save time. Besides, after this much of the Memorarae charm plus a quidditch practice tomorrow, I think Harry will have had enough."  
  
Helping Harry to his feet, they made their way back to Gryffindor tower in thoughtful silence.  
  
The next morning after breakfast, Harry led the quidditch team out to the pitch for practice. It was a still, bright day but bitingly cold. That was fine with Harry. All the better reason for cutting practice short so he and Ron could get back to help Hermione. Despite the cold, the team looked good, Harry had to admit with some pride. Ron had settled into a consistently reliable keeper. Dennis Creevey amazed everyone with his ever- increasing repertoire of flying tricks which made it difficult for beaters to mark him. Ginny was still their strongest chaser, even in her recent abstracted state of mind.  
  
Lately, however, Harry had noticed a bit of a lift in her gloom. She was still too quiet and rather pale, but she could, again, be seen Dean's company, studying each evening. Toward Harry, she maintained a stiff, unrelenting disdain. Generally, she ignored his presence and on the quidditch pitch, she spoke only of the game, addressing him as "Potter" in a completely impersonal way. Ron noticed but refrained - Harry figured it was Hermione's influence - from saying anything. Harry, himself, was still angry enough to prefer it this way.  
  
Harry broke up practice when his fingers were too cold to feel the snitch clutched in his fist. Moments later, Ron headed toward Hagrid's hut to meet Hermione and Harry made his way back toward the castle. The others had gone on ahead and Harry was alone. It was amazing that in the stillness, he hadn't heard them approach.  
  
"All alone, Potter?" a voice drawled from behind him. "How unusual and believe me, I should know."  
  
"Following me, are you, Malfoy?" Harry's voice curled in disgust. He turned to face the Slytherin, finding him, as usual, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy had grown taller which accentuated the haughty lift of his narrow shoulders and pointed chin. In contrast, Crabbe and Goyle had only grown more to resemble animated boulders - slightly animated, at that. Harry watched them carefully, wondering how he'd get his wand out of his pocket before Malfoy jinxed him. The sneering pain-in-the-arse already stood poised with his wand drawn. Malfoy saw Harry eyeing his wand tip.  
  
"Yes, as a matter of fact, Potter I am. And you needn't worry," he added, lowering his wand but not putting it away, "I'm not here to curse you, more's the pity. I just thought it'd be more fun if you knew. You might be inspired to put on a better show."  
  
"What are you on about?" Harry growled, glowering.  
  
"I mean," Malfoy replied, "I am watching, waiting for the right moment to act. I told you before, I haven't forgotten what you did to my father, to my family. Retribution is coming, Potter, in the fullness of time." One blond eyebrow lifted. "In the meantime, I thought if you were aware I am watching, you might make an effort to be more interesting. I'm getting tired of the library and the quidditch pitch. Although, yesterday, when you stole away to that old classroom with the Great Lovers, I admit, was more interesting. Isn't it touching how those who really haven't much of anything will share what little they have with those they care about?" Harry grabbed his wand as he heard the derisive amusement in the drawling voice, but Malfoy carried on as if he hadn't noticed. "I would have thought Weasley was too Neanderthal to share that. Still, I imagine the little mudblood has enough energy for the two of you." Harry's blood was pounding in his ears and he shook with fury, but Malfoy kept on. "Pity I didn't have time to place a surveillance charm or something. I would've liked to listen in. Kinky."  
  
Something in Harry broke loose at that point. Behind the three Slytherins, an old tree stump blasted apart, splinters flying, making them flinch and duck. Harry was only dimly aware of this as he advanced on Malfoy, his mouth already forming the words of the jinx.  
  
"Amputare lips and -"  
  
"EXPELLIARMUS!"  
  
Harry felt his wand pull free and zoom back over his head toward the angry voice behind him. He knew before he turned around that, somehow, Snape had arrived on the scene.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, you and your companions have cost your house five points a piece for baiting the volatile Mr. Potter. You should have had better sense. Now, straight back to the castle." The professor took Harry roughly by the collar. "And you have cost your house seventy-five points for your inability to control your temper. You shall, also, serve detention with me. Immediately."  
  
They set off for the castle, Snape still gripping Harry's shirt collar. Harry didn't bother trying to explain or justify himself. He didn't particularly want to repeat Malfoy's words to Snape, of all people and even if he did, Harry knew very well, it would make no difference. He never should have lost control of his magic that way. Harry was ushered to a chair at a small table as the door shut behind them.  
  
"Potter, tell me I don't need to explain how dangerously stupid it is to allow yourself to lose control that way. You are very fortunate the stump was your only victim."  
  
"Yes, sir," Harry answered, teeth clenched.  
  
A roll of parchment, quill, and ink pot appeared on the table before Harry.  
  
"Small wonder you are still struggling so with Occlumency. Potter, you will learn to keep hold of yourself or risk mistakes you can ill afford." Snape moved behind his own desk and sat down. "You will now write a foot of parchment explaining why you must master your mental focus. Your detention ends when you have completed this assignment to my satisfaction. Begin."  
  
An hour later, Harry left Snape's office, no less angry, but definitely resolved to keep himself in check. Snape had been unfair, as usual, but Harry grudgingly admitted that it had been dangerous to get so angry at Malfoy. With a sigh, he gave the password - fortunately changed to "gooseberry fool" - to the Fat Lady and entered the common room. Ron and Hermione were waiting for him.  
  
"Harry! What happened?" Ron asked. "We heard Snape dragged you off to his office."  
  
Harry recounted what had happened, although he left out the insults toward Ron and Hermione. The threat of some future attack was enough to worry them as it was.  
  
"I don't blame you for losing it," Ron said. "Wish I'd seen you blow up that stump, though." He and Harry grinned at each other.  
  
"It isn't funny, you two," Hermione snapped. Her reaction was predictable. "I know Malfoy has always been just so much wind, but Harry, he's never had so much reason to hate you before. He blames you for his father being in Azkaban."  
  
"I know, Hermione, I know," Harry sighed wearily. "Look, let's drop it, for now. I just can't bring myself to take Malfoy seriously. What did you two learn?"  
  
"Nothing from Hagrid," Ron answered, "but he did say he hadn't had any luck finding a 'lady friend' for Grawp." He rolled his eyes. "That was a relief, anyway."  
  
"I spent some time trying to figure out Annwyl, herself," Hermione said. "You know how I feel about divination, but there are some things we can consider, using Arithmancy." The boys looked puzzled, so she explained briefly. "It's similar, in a way, to muggle Numerology. Each letter is assigned a numerical value and dates are written in numerical form. The numbers one through nine each have different characteristics associated with them. You can put together a rather interesting picture of a person with those numbers.  
  
"So, you've put together a numerical profile of Annwyl?" Harry asked, still looking confused.  
  
"Essentially, yes. Here, take a look," she spread some parchment out in front of them. "This first number is the total of the number values of the letters in her name and gives her general character. The sum is forty- nine. Now, everything gets reduced to a single digit, so we add the four and the nine to get thirteen and the one and three to get her character number which is four. Using different combinations of letters from her name, her hear number - that is, her inner self, was a one. Her social number ended up being a three."  
  
"So, what does that mean?" Ron asked.  
  
"Well, the four is good. Four is stability, firmness, hard working, logic, that sort of thing. On the down side, it can also mean stubbornness and a tendency toward a hot temper."  
  
"Well, I guess we saw that when she cut Snape," Harry said. Hermione nodded.  
  
"Now, the one is interesting," she went on. "One is independent and focused but can also be self-centered and egotistical. Frankly, that tallies, as well. Her social number, three, is a good one. Three is completeness. It indicates talent, energy, social ease, and so on. But a three runs the risk of being unfocussed."  
  
"She sure seems to run by contrasts," Ron remarked.  
  
"Yes, and really, that's our whole problem with her, isn't it?" answered Hermione.  
  
"So, do the numbers apply to other things?" asked Harry.  
  
"Oh yes, you can reduce the letters of anything to numerical values. In theory, a person is most compatible with thing and people that share their number."  
  
"I don't feel like we've learned anything," Ron complained.  
  
"Well, I guess we have some interesting slants on her behavior and personality," Harry answered doubtfully.  
  
"I suppose so," sighed Hermione, scooping up her parchments. "D'you know, I even check her auror I. D. number. I took it from your memory, Harry. 37853 reduces to an eight. That's the most unpredictable number there is. The potential for great success or utter failure is equally great. Haven't a clue what to make of that."  
  
"Nothing, for now," answered Harry. "The next time we can write to Remus, we can try to get him to tell us more about her. Wish we knew where he was."  
  
Remus had not spent the last full moon at Hogwarts and Harry had had no letter from him in weeks. He was more than a little concerned.  
  
"Well, then, let's go down for dinner," Ron proposed. I'm starving."  
  
Dinner was nearly over when the evening edition of The Daily Prophet arrived. Hermione scanned her copy, then sighed.  
  
"Well, at least it is quiet," she said. "Nothing seems to have happened since that attack at St. Mungo's."  
  
"It's the quiet that worries me," answered Harry, looking thoughtfully first at Annwyl and then at Draco Malfoy. "That is definitely what worries me." 


	11. Dark Hours

Disclaimer: Please see previous chapters.  
  
Author's Notes: Thank you to all my ever-so-wonderful readers! *runs around handing out big chocolate chip cookies, still warm from the oven, and glasses of cold milk* Love you all! If you are reading but not reviewing, please, PLEASE take a moment to review. It is easy, free and painless. Where else are you going to get an offer like that? Hope you all enjoy!  
  
HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND  
  
Chapter 11 - Dark Hours  
  
Harry's uneasy peace held nearly a week. It had been a busy one with plenty of homework and revision as the term drew to a close. After a particularly long evening laboring over an essay for Snape, Harry yawned mightily and stretched.  
  
"All right, Harry?" Hermione asked, her look something more than curious. "You've certainly seemed tired today."  
  
"I'm fine," answered Harry, surprised. "It's just all the work they've piled on us, and just before holidays, too." He smiled at Hermione. "I expect I don't have your stamina for this sort of thing."  
  
Hermione made no answer, but her face was troubled. Seeing her expression, Harry remembered Ginny's angry outburst about his fatigue and Hermione's worry. The thought made him uncomfortable, but he said nothing. Instead, he offered up another grin.  
  
"Actually, I'd probably be able to keep awake if this essay were for anyone other than Snape."  
  
"If ever anyone wants to develop a charm for a sweet disposition, that git would be the perfect test subject," observed Ron mildly. "Any spell that could lighten him up would surely be a smashing success."  
  
"Ron, really," Hermione sighed, shaking her head.  
  
"Well, I am knackered," Harry interjected, "so I believe I'll call it a night." Gathering his books and saying good night, he went upstairs. Once in bed, Harry tried to recall if he had felt particularly tired before each of his visions, but before he could put much effort into it, he was sound asleep.  
  
As was often the case, Harry's sleep was troubled by a series of nightmares. Generally, these dreams were of indistinct, disjointed images - distant screams, hazy faces, a pervading sense of anger and fear. This night, however, the dreams were somewhat more defined. There were still distant screams and hazy faces, but added to these were images of gray, square buildings and bleak landscape. More screams, a rush of anger and an incongruous stab of triumph brought Harry bolt upright in bed, his heart pounding and his scar prickling.  
  
Parting the hangings around his four poster and swinging his legs over the side, Harry tried to wake enough to remember what had happened in the dream. He remembered some buildings, but felt pretty sure he'd never been anywhere like that. That sudden sense of triumph was puzzling. He looked around the dorm as if the sleeping forms of his roommates could provide an answer. The sight of the first quarter moon shining through the window made Harry jump. The moon! Those buildings in his dream! He had been seeing the werewolf sanctuary as it was shown in The Daily Prophet! The screams and anger from the dream, along with that odd moment of triumph came together in Harry's mind. Something had happened at the sanctuary and Voldemort was almost certainly behind it.  
  
Realizing the possibilities spurred Harry into action. This was certainly something the Order would want to know about and that meant he needed to reach Dumbledore right away. Hurrying into shoes and his dressing gown, he turned to his trunk. Quietly, he drew out his invisibility cloak. Harry felt certain that this was no time to run into Filch or Snape. He disappeared beneath the silvery fabric and silently left the dorm.  
  
It was no trick getting out of Gryffindor tower, but once out, Harry realized he had neglected to bring the Marauder's Map. There would be no way of knowing if anyone was about until they were upon him. Cautiously, Harry made his way down several staircases. A right at the next corridor, then two more left turns and he'd be at the stone gargoyle. Turning right into a narrow corridor, he stopped short. It was lit by moonlight streaming in a single window, quite at the other end from Harry. Still, the silver light was enough to show a figure standing at the window, looking out as if waiting for something.  
  
From where he was, the only way to the headmaster's office, barring backtracking nearly all the way back to the Fat Lady's portrait, was to go right past the waiting figure. Harry hesitated, but curiosity got the better of him and he inched forward. He hadn't gone far before realizing that it was Annwyl before him. Even as this registered in Harry's mind, he saw her tense and reach to swing open the casement. A moment later, a large eagle owl swooped in, landing on Annwyl's raised arm. She gently removed the parchment from its leg and gave it what looked like a bit of mutton from that evening's dinner. With a muffled hoot of acknowledgement, the owl took wing and melted into the night.  
  
Whatever news the parchment contained, it's only effect of the news on Annwyl was to tighten her jaw and raise one eyebrow. She stood for a moment, looking out at the moonlit grounds. Then, with an impatient growl, she shoved the parchment into the pocket of her robes and headed for a staircase which led toward the dungeons. Harry watched her go, hardly daring to breathe. He was anxious for her to get safely away because in her impatient haste, she had not noticed the parchment miss and fall from her pocket. Harry tiptoed forward, scooping up the crumpled note. He dared not light his wand, but the moonlight was enough to make out the message.  
  
Directions remain unchanged. Proceed according to original plan. Full report  
expected by the new year.  
  
The note was unsigned and Harry didn't recognize the handwriting. As much as Harry disliked what he was about to do, there was nothing else for it. He would have to take the note to Dumbledore and suggest his goddaughter was a security risk. Now, with his worry over both his dream and the note spurring him on, he practically ran toward the stone gargoyle.  
  
As he reached the corridor where Dumbledore's office was, he was dealt yet another surprise. Dumbledore was already exiting his office in a tearing hurry, his expression stern. Harry flung off the invisibility cloak and hurried forward to meet the elderly wizard.  
  
"Professor, it's the werewolf sanctuary!" Harry gasped out.  
  
"Yes, I've only just heard," Dumbledore replied, pausing before Harry. "What have you seen?"  
  
Harry explained his dream and the old man nodded.  
  
"Alright, Harry. I must meet with Order operatives." Seeing his worried frown he put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "When I return, I'll bring a note from Remus. I assure you he is alright."  
  
"But, sir," Harry began, drawing Annwyl's parchment from his dressing gown pocket.  
  
"Harry, I promise I'll bring you what news I can, but I must go now. I am needed."  
  
Harry said nothing, but nodded somberly, pulling his invisibility cloak back over his head. He retraced his steps as his headmaster disappeared in the other direction.  
  
He reached the Fat Lady's portrait without incident and slipped quietly into his dorm room. He replaced the invisibility cloak in his trunk and got into bed, drawing the hangings tightly shut. Lighting his wand, he drew out the parchment Annwyl had dropped and examined it closely. There was nothing to be seen aside from the message.  
  
Harry carefully folded the note and tucked it deep under his mattress. Flopping back into his pillow, Harry practiced clearing his mind. Moments later, he was asleep.  
  
***  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione were at breakfast early the next morning. To Harry's surprise, Dumbledore was not seated at the head table. In whispers, he gave the other two a brief outline of the previous night.  
  
"Let's have a look at that note," urged Ron. "Do you think there's a concealing charm on it? Maybe there is something else there and we just have to break the charm."  
  
"We can't," Hermione answered. "We've got Charms first thing today and there isn't time to get all the way back to your dorm and mess about with that parchment."  
  
"We could skive off Charms for today," Ron wheedled. "And, really, it wouldn't even be skiving off as we'll be working on charm-breaking anyway. C'mon Hermione, think of it as a special project."  
  
Harry tuned them out as they began their daily ritual of bickering through breakfast. His thoughts were on the werewolf sanctuary and Dumbledore's absence. The situation must be grim, indeed, to keep the headmaster so long from the school. Harry turned toward the head table and looked at Professor McGonagall. Her face was calm and stern as ever, but Harry thought he could detect a flicker of worry - fear, even - in her eyes as she looked out over the house tables.  
  
The flutter of wings overhead drew Harry's attention and even caused a temporary halt in Ron and Hermione's warped flirting. They waited tensely, but no owl settled before Harry with a note from Remus. Hermione was so intent on watching for such word, she nearly overlooked the little Scops owl bearing her copy of The Daily Prophet. When Hermione had accepted her paper and given the owl a bit of toast, all three of them leaned in to get a look at the front page. As Harry had feared, the headline was grim.  
  
Security Breached - Dozens Killed - Werewolves At Large  
  
The lead article explained that a group of unknown wizards had broken through Ministry security. While most of the werewolves had escaped with the intruders, fifty-three werewolves, six Ministry security personnel and four aurors had been killed. Although it was not the time of a full moon, many of the victims appeared to have been attacked by werewolves. Although the Ministry had released no official statement, as yet, it was suspected that is was the work of Death Eaters and the werewolves had allied themselves with the Dark Lord.  
  
"Bloody hell," Ron breathed fervently. "That can't be true. They can't have done." He looked over to Harry. "Can they?"  
  
"What if they have? I mean, they ought to be more careful," Harry said in a mockingly virtuous tone. "The Ministry might lock them all up. Oh, wait - never mind." His expression was bitter.  
  
"I'm afraid Harry's right," said Hermione. "They've got nothing to lose and no reason to feel any loyalty to the Ministry or any of the rest of us. We didn't make the laws, but no one is doing anything about them either."  
  
"They must have killed the ones who refused to come to Voldemort," Harry said in a flat voice.  
  
After a few moments of uncomfortable silence Hermione rose, reluctantly gathering her things.  
  
"We'd better get to Charms," she said sadly.  
  
***  
  
Harry spent a fairly pointless day, going automatically from one lesson to the next, his mind as far from the proper pruning of a tentacula or doxy husbandry as it was possible to be. Ron didn't seem to be faring any better and even Hermione's attention drifted. When, at last, they had dropped into large armchairs in the common room, she dumped her book bag to the floor.  
  
"Oh, this is no good!" Hermione tousled her already wild curls in exasperation. "Just sitting here is stupid and, goodness knows, we won't get any studying done. Let's go visit Hagrid until dinnertime."  
  
Over very large mugs of tea, Hagrid was philosophical.  
  
"It won't do no good, 'Arry, frettin' like this." He tugged his wiry beard sagely. "We all knew sumthin' like this could 'appen. Tha' ruddy sanctuary jus' made it a sure thing. It's a blow, o' course, but not unexpected-like. Grea' man, Dumbledore. Knew wha' was comin'. Trus' Dumbledore, 'Arry."  
  
"Yes," Harry said quietly, his voice tight, "Dumbledore is a great man. But he is just a man." Harry's voice grew louder. "One man. How is he supposed to fix all this? How can any single person -" He stopped abruptly. He knew very well how a single person could fix things. He even knew who was destined to do the fixing. The prophecy had made that chillingly clear.  
  
Not for the first time, Harry wanted to blurt out all he knew about the prophecy to his friends. He longed to pour out his tangled thoughts and emotions much the way one lances a festering wound - draining and clearing away the poisonous matter, allowing it to heal at last. He was checked by his dread of the looks of horror, pity - or worse - revulsion he knew he would see on his friends' faces. Once again, Harry grew silent, his nose buried in his tea mug as the others exchanged sad, worried looks he didn't see.  
  
To the trio's relief, Dumbledore had resumed his place at the head table when they came to dinner that evening. His expression was surprisingly congenial and one would never have guessed that he'd spent the last eighteen hours in what must have been very grim Order meetings and planning sessions. Harry sat staring without realizing until the old blue eyes turned and met his. There was no twinkle, but Dumbledore's eyes were bright with something else. As Dumbledore nodded a silent greeting, Harry realized it was a light of determination, of battle.  
  
Toward the end of the meal, as many students were leaving and scattering to their different common rooms, Dumbledore approached the trio and, drawing Harry aside, spoke quietly.  
  
"I have seen our friend, Moony. He is well and promises a visit in the, er, fullness of time. In the meantime, Harry, we'll need to put greater effort into your Occlumency lessons. Come to my office after lessons tomorrow." With an encouraging thump on Harry's shoulder, he left the Hall.  
  
The next afternoon, Harry reached the stone gargoyle just as Professor Snape arrived from the opposite direction. He stopped before Harry, his arms crossed over his chest, an impatient frown darkening his features.  
  
"Potter, these lessons are taxing my time and patience beyond reason. The headmaster may be diverted by your repeated failure to grasp the concepts, but I am not. I do hope, this time, you will put to use whatever brains encased in your thick, over-sized, Gryffindor skull." He turned to the gargoyle. "Spiced Gumdrops."  
  
Harry had not spoken as he followed the older wizard onto the spiral stairs. His jaw was set, his fists clenched and he shook with anger. They were not halfway up the stairs when a crackle of bluish light appeared from thin air and sizzled around Snape's head and shoulders. The man stiffened slightly but did not turn to look back at Harry.  
  
"Potter, did you hear none of my advice to you? You had best gain control over your anger or you may find your 'accidental' magic more harmful than you dreamed."  
  
They were a sullen, silent pair entering the headmaster's office, but if Dumbledore noticed, he made no remark. Instead, he greeted them pleasantly, offering his usual dish of sherbet lemons before clearing the center of the room with a casual flick of his wand.  
  
"Before we begin, Harry," Dumbledore said, his tone becoming quite serious, "I wish to explain why we shall be attempting to accelerate you lessons. I am afraid we have reason to believe that Voldemort has further developed his soul-imposition skills. Certainly, his use of kissed individuals has become increasingly effective." Here, he looked away slightly. "Now, we fear he has begun to experiment with imposing upon victims still in possession of their souls."  
  
"But, what does that do to their souls?" Harry asked. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted the answer, though. To his surprise, it was Snape who answered.  
  
"At first, my guess is that is would be no more damaging than a powerful Imperious curse. However -" his voice trailed off.  
  
"It is likely the cumulative effects would be quite damaging," Dumbledore filled in, sadly. You see, if Voldemort is using a modified form of Legilimency to accomplish this - as seems nearly certain - it is much more powerful than the Imperius. Imperius can be fought by a strong- willed individual. However, an invasion of the mind, such as this, could be repelled only by a skilled Occlumens. Even then, the outcome would be, at best, uncertain."  
  
"Could that be what happened to Percy Weasley?" Harry asked. Dumbledore nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on Harry's face, as if waiting for his response. Harry frowned, thinking hard. "But last year, Professor Snape told me that Legilimency was only effective when the subject was near and that, often, there had to be eye contact."  
  
"That's so, Potter," Snape said quietly.  
  
"Then, that means that Percy had to be close to Voldemort -" Harry's eyes widened. "NO! You can't believe Percy let Voldemort take over his soul!" He turned to Dumbledore in disbelief.  
  
"I am afraid we cannot be certain what to believe," was the surprising reply. "Order operatives have been keeping a friendly eye on young Weasley for some time. Arthur and Molly were worried about what he might do in the face of Fudge's admissions regarding Voldemort. It seems worry was justified. Percy has been forming some unsavory friendships, of late."  
  
"Then, he was there?" Snape's eyebrow lifted.  
  
"Yes," Dumbledore nodded. "The information was correct. Percy was among those leading the attack at the werewolf sanctuary."  
  
"Has anyone told Ron and Ginny?" Harry asked in a small voice.  
  
"Arthur is, no doubt, with them now. He arrived a short time ago so he might break the news in person."  
  
"Headmaster," said Snape, "perhaps we should begin our lesson. Surely, Potter sees why he must become an adequate Occlumens as soon as may be."  
  
And so, they began. With so much to consider, Harry found it harder than ever to clear his mind. Still, the implications of what Professor Dumbledore had told him were enough to cause him to apply himself with more vigor than he had ever yet mustered. After an hour's hard effort, Harry was, at last, able to restrict Snape's access to a single word and even begin to repulse the intrusion. There was a fierce sort of pleasure in Snape's eye when Harry began to resist.  
  
"Alright, Harry," the headmaster interposed. "I believe that is enough for today. We are beginning to see fine progress." His voice sounded tired.  
  
"Yes, sir. Thank you," Harry answered. His hand went to his pocket where he had Annwyl's odd owl post. "May I see you a moment, privately, sir?"  
  
"Then you shall not be needing me," Snape said, moving toward the door. "If you will excuse me, Headmaster. Potter, be sure you continue to practice." With a nod to Dumbledore, he left.  
  
"Yes, Harry?" Dumbledore wearily moved his belongings back with his wand and sat at his desk heavily. "What is on your mind, my boy?"  
  
Harry watched the elderly wizard with concern. The sparkle was entirely absent from the blue eyes and his face was gray and deeply lined.  
  
"Sir, are you alright? You look - Professor!"  
  
Harry leaped forward in panic as the headmaster suddenly pitched forward, unconscious. Gently, Harry eased the old man back into the chair, reclining him slightly. Dumbldore's face was gray and slack. For a moment, blind fear gripped Harry, but shaking himself, he hurried to the fire, snatching the floo powder from the mantle.  
  
"Hospital wing," he gasped into the flames. "Madame Pomfrey? Please, it's an emergency!"  
  
To his infinite relief, the nurse did not even bother answering, but stepped immediately through the fire and into the room. With a horrified gasp, she hurried to Dumbledore's side.  
  
"Mr. Potter, fetch Professor McGonagall at once. Bring her to the hospital wing." She conjured a stretcher and turned back to her patient as Harry raced from the office.  
  
Luck was with him, it seemed, for Professor McGonagall was alone in her office when he arrived, breathless and nearly incoherent.  
  
"Potter, for Merlin's sake! Do get a hold of yourself. I can't make out a word you are saying."  
  
"Professor, Madame Pomfrey wants you to come to the hospital wing right away. Something has happened to Professor Dumbledore. He just collapsed or something."  
  
Without waiting to hear more, she rose from her desk and set off for the hospital wing. Harry hurried along beside her, explaining what had occurred.  
  
They entered the infirmary quietly and Professor McGonagall called softly, "Poppy? I came as soon as I could."  
  
"Oh, Minerva, thank goodness!" Madame Pomfrey leaned around a small door off to one side. "Come in, come in!"  
  
"Potter, thank you for informing me. Now, you'd best get back to your common room. Madame Pomfrey will have things well in hand. Oh, and Potter, do not tell anyone of this just yet." Harry nodded and she turned, satisfied, to follow Madame Pomfrey. "Now, Poppy, what is this all about?"  
  
"Minerva, I've never seen anything like it -"  
  
The door swung shut, cutting off their voices. Harry waited a moment, but there were no other sounds to be heard. He gave up and turned to go.  
  
It was a serious anti-climax to be walking back to Gryffindor tower and a Potions essay. Not only that, but he had no idea what to say to Ron and Hermione. Harry really hoped Mr. Weasley had explained about Percy. That was the last news in the world he wanted to be bringing his best friends.  
  
Upon entering the common room and spying Hermione, Harry could see Mr. Weasley had, indeed, broken the news. She sat, well away from other students, in a chilly window seat. Her eyes were red and her nose looked puffy, as if she'd been crying. Ron was nowhere to be seen. Harry sat down beside her and looked, as she did, out over the frozen grounds.  
  
"Dumbledore told me about Percy. Are you alright?" She nodded, but did not speak. "What about Ron?" Here, she gave a shuddering sigh.  
  
"Ron's very upset, of course. He's holding up rather well, though. Really, he's been very brave about the whole thing. But, Ginny. Oh, Harry, I never knew anyone could cry like that."  
  
"Where are they now?"  
  
"Mr. Weasley took them both into Hogsmeade for dinner," Hermione answered. "They really need that time together, you know? They'll be back later."  
  
So, they sat, their silence quite soothing after the tempestuous afternoon. Dinner, despite the bustle of the Great Hall, was equally quiet for the two friends. When at last, Ron found them in the common room, they found there was still very little to say. Somehow, being together was enough.  
  
***  
When Dumbledore didn't appear at breakfast the next morning, Ron was instantly eager.  
  
"Do you suppose there has been news about Percy?" His eyes lit with hope. "Maybe he's with Order operatives."  
  
Harry felt his stomach tighten as he saw his best friends face.  
  
"I'm afraid not, Ron," he said sadly and quietly explained to Ron and Hermione what had happened the night before. Hermione was agast, but since there was nothing else to say or to be done, they finished their meal in silence and left for lessons.  
  
Afternoon found them in a double Potions lesson. Annwyl was taking advantage of the longer schedule to give them the practical portion of their end of term exam.  
  
"Today, you will be brewing a shielding potion. You should have covered these in your essays. This formula, the Armorindi Elixir, is one of the more potent. However, it is quite volatile during the brewing process. Until the shredded mandrake leaves have been added in the final moments, the solution will be highly unstable and should be handled with extreme care. Any excessive vibration of the cauldron could produce a quite dangerous explosion. The instructions are on the board and your ingredients are on the side table. You may begin."  
  
The room was silent except for the soft sounds of flames licking the cauldron bottoms, the tiny popping sounds of bubbling liquids and the sounds of chopping, shredding and grinding ingredients. Annwyl moved slowly among them, watching their progress and monitoring the condition of the solutions. She had just peered into Ron's cauldron, then Harry's, given a satisfied nod and was moving on when a low, slow rumble was heard. Harry had his back to his cauldron as he shredded his mandrake leaves and he did not see his cauldron begin to rock as if by a giant, invisible hand. The contents began to fizz and sparkle.  
  
Ron noticed and, with a hoarse shout, flung himself at Harry, bearing him to the ground in a tangled heap. At nearly the same second, Annwyl had seen as well and she, too, dove in front of them, her wand drawn and an incantation forming on her lips. But, it was too late. With and almighty bang, the cauldron expelled its contents, upended itself and fell to the stone floor, cracking in three great pieces.  
  
The sizzling liquid spattered a few students nearby and Harry felt an excruciating burning on his left hand as a large dollop splashed over it. The greatest portion of the potion fell over Ron as he shielded Harry and Annwyl as she shielded Ron. Both let out a shriek of pain as they were struck.  
  
"Scourgify!" Hermione leaped forward with her wand and with a few others doing the same, the largest part of the potion was cleared away. Even so, Harry could see, as he struggled to his feet, the damage had already been done.  
  
Ron and Annwyl lay on the floor, nearly unconscious, moaning. Nearly all their exposed skin was covered in vicious-looking blisters and Harry could see through a tear in the shoulder of Ron's robes that the skin beneath their sodden clothing was similarly affected.  
  
Hermione dropped to her knees beside Ron murmuring, "Hold on, Ron. Dean's gone for help. Just hold on."  
  
Annwyl stirred slightly, reaching out for Harry's hand. "Potion perfect. Something shook it -" Her voice gave out and she sank into merciful unconsciousness.  
  
Moments later, Madame Pomfrey arrived, several jars of ointment in hand.  
  
"Right, then," the nurse began, "any whose blisters are smaller than a galleon, use this ointment. Anyone else, follow me to the hospital wing." She reached Ron and Annwyl and her eyes widened. "What in the world happened here?" She conjured stretchers and gently levitated her patients on to them.  
  
"Something shook the cauldron," Harry answered quietly.  
  
"That seems an understatement, Mr. Potter," she responded, giving him a shrewd look. "You come along with us. I'll need to see to that hand."  
  
Harry and Hermione waited together in the hospital wing for word of Ron and Annwyl. Other than Harry, no other student needed the nurse's attention so they were alone. Madame Pomfrey had left a mild pain potion for Harry while he waited and after a bit of nagging, Hermione convinced him to drink it. Nearly an hour had passed since then and they were still waiting. At last, Madame Pomfrey emerged from behind the white curtain surrounding Ron and Annwyl, just as Professor McGonagall entered the wing.  
  
"Poppy, how are they?" McGonagall stepped forward, forestalling Harry and Hermione.  
  
"Professor King and Mr. Weasley are sleeping fairly quietly, but I had to give them heavy doses of pain and sleep draughts. The burns from the potion are extensive."  
  
"Please, Madame Pomfrey, they will be alright, won't they?" Hermione asked anxiously.  
  
"Not to worry, Miss Granger. They will recover. However potion burns of this nature and severity heal slowly. They were both moving into shock when I arrived and the body needs time to recover from that."  
  
"So, what do you suggest, Poppy?" asked Professor McGonagall.  
  
"They will have to remain here for a while. I realize the school will be on holiday in a few days, but I do not believe either of them will be fit to leave my care for at least a week. I'm afraid they will both be spending Christmas at Hogwarts."  
  
Although Hermione petitioned strongly to be allowed to stay with Ron, the nurse refused, saying she would be keeping them asleep until sometime the following afternoon. Professor McGonagall left them, saying, "I shall notify the Weasleys. Perhaps they would like to come to the castle for Christmas to be near their son."  
  
"Alright, Mr. Potter," said Madame Pomfrey briskly, "let me see to your hand so I can get back to the other two."  
  
Moments later, Harry's hand was coated with a healing poultice and heavily bandaged. Instructing him to stay put and leave the bandages in place until the smoking stopped, the nurse left Harry and Hermione alone again. Hermione was about to speak when the concerned voice of Madame Pomfrey came from behind the small door Harry had seen the previous day.  
  
"Albus, be reasonable! We haven't even been able to determine what made you collapse!"  
  
The door swung open revealing a smiling Dumbledore.  
  
"There, there, Poppy. Don't fuss. I am as right as rain and I must return to my duties. I assure you I am quite alright." With that, he swept from the room.  
  
"He did look a bit pale," Hermione murmured, frowning deeply. "So, let me get this right. Dumbledore collapses and not even Madame Pomfrey knows why. Some unseen - something - causes a potion explosion which seriously injures a student and a professor. That seems too much to be coincidental, even for Hogwarts."  
  
"Are you saying there is someone, here in the castle, behind these things?" Harry asked, amazed.  
  
'It seems possible to me," Hermione replied. "So, my question is, who and what next?" 


	12. Celebrations and Realizations

Disclaimers: Please see previous chapters.  
  
Author's Notes: I need to thank a bunch of you folks, so hang on to your hats. First, thanks to Moriah S., my ever-wonderful beta! Thanks very much also to my reviewers - Slate, Keyca, Serenity55, malexandria, mrs- osborne's-class, Stellaluna Melonballer, Hufflepuff1324, Amanda, LoopyforLupin, Kemenran, A-Brighter-Dawn, zorrox, Locke21, PrphtssP, klg, Sea-Turtles, Short-blondie, Charlie Magnus, Tiffany, Tyler Bass, and Tina. I really hope I didn't miss anyone. You guys are the best for leaving those reviews! Thank you, thank you, thank you!  
  
HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND  
  
Chapter 12 - Celebrations and Realizations  
  
It was chilly in the silent, empty dorm room where Harry sat. Just behind him, his four poster was piled to the top of the footboard with scarlet and gold eiderdowns. Every night when he flopped into their welcome warmth, Harry thought gratefully of the house elves responsible for such comfort. Tonight, however, instead of diving under the covers, Harry sat at the window, looking down on the snowy grounds and reflecting on the time since Ron and Annwyl were injured.  
  
The school was practically empty now, as the students had piled into the carriages headed for the train just that morning. Not surprisingly, with all the uncertainty in the magical community, parents were anxious to have their children home and all the students save Hermione, the Weasleys and Harry had gone. Actually, Hermione's parents were anxious to have her home, as well, but Dumbledore had advised against it. Order operatives were spread rather thin as it was and the additional security needed for Hermione was easier to provide at Hogwarts. The Grangers agreed, at last, with the promise of a visit at Easter.  
  
The students had only just departed when the whole Weasley clan arrived in answer to Professor McGonagall's invitation. Harry was surprised to see that even Charlie had made it back from Romania for the occasion. Since only Hermione, Ginny and Harry remained in Gryffindor tower, the Weasleys moved into the dorms there. Fred and George took the fifth year boys' room, Bill and Charlie took the seventh year dorm, and Harry stayed where he was where he would be rejoined by Ron when Madame Pomfrey released him from hospital. Hermione roomed with Ginny, leaving the sixth year girls' dorm for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Harry was particularly glad that Hermione would be with Ginny. It had been a tough time for them both.  
  
On the day of the Potions accident, Harry had remained in the hospital wing while the burns on his hand healed. When it became clear that Madame Pomfrey was not going to change her mind about letting Hermione in to see Ron, Harry was able to convince her to go down for dinner with a promise that he would join her shortly. So, he was sitting alone when the door burst open for a frantic looking Ginny Weasley.  
  
"Oh, Harry," she gasped. "I only just heard there'd been an accident. Is Ron alright? Where is he?"  
  
"He's going to be okay, but Madame Pomfrey has Ron and Annwyl sleeping for the time being," Harry answered, gesturing toward the white curtain partition.  
  
Ginny noticed Harry's bandaged hand. "Oh, your hand. Does it hurt very much? Do you know what happened? It must have happened pretty quickly if you couldn't get to Ron."  
  
Harry looked up in surprise. "What do you mean? Didn't anyone tell you?"  
  
It was Ginny's turn to look blank. "No, I didn't take time to find Dean. I just heard there'd been an accident and Ron was injured. I came straight away."  
  
"Ron was injured because he was saving me," Harry said quietly. He told her what had happened and what Madame Pomfrey had said about their injuries.  
  
"I see," Ginny answered thoughtfully. "Somehow, I got the impression that you - never mind." She shook herself slightly and sat down on a nearby chair. Harry could see her manner revert to the impersonal tone she had taken with him since their falling out. "So, there really is no chance of seeing Ron?" Harry shook his head. "Right, then. I think I'll see Professor McGonagall and then owl Mum." She rose and headed toward the door, but turned to look back, her face unreadable. "I'm sorry about your hand, Harry."  
  
Madame Pomfrey had kept Ron and Annwyl asleep for a full thirty-six hours after the accident. They awoke a short while after the arrival of the Weasleys and, for a time, it looked as if Madame Pomfrey would spontaneously combust in her irritation over the joyful jumble of Weasleys who poured into the ward to greet Ron. At last, however, the nurse triumphed over family celebration and the group gathered in the Gryffindor common room. Molly Weasley, still needing someone to mother, went right to work on Ginny, Hermione and Harry.  
  
"Ginny, dear, haven't they been feeding you? You're too pale, as well. Hermione, I think you've been studying too much. You'll ruin your eyes, dear, if you don't take a rest." She stopped to draw breath and was about to begin on Harry, when Mr. Weasley interrupted.  
  
"Now, Molly dear, you'll have plenty of time to fuss over them, but it's nearly dinner time and I, for one, am famished. Who'll join me downstairs?"  
  
It was a small group at dinner and they were seated at one large table in the center of the Hall. The presence of the others took much of Mrs. Weasley's attention and Harry was relieved to have escaped answering too many of her questions. As yet, no one had mentioned Percy, but Harry feared that it would not be long before the Weasleys asked to hear what he had seen in his own words. It was not a discussion he looked forward to having. Thankfully, by the time they regained the common room, everyone was much too full of the excellent dinner to indulge in much more than some fond good nights and head directly to bed.  
  
Now, Harry sat alone at the window in his dorm, staring out at the chilly night. He loved the Weasleys dearly. They were more like a family to him than anything he had ever experienced, but that very fact depressed him, somehow. He was well aware that had he been the injured one, they would have been nearly as anxious to visit him, but it wouldn't have been the same. They were like family. They weren't family. Even the sleeping arrangements seemed to accentuate it in Harry's mind. He was alone. Ron would return, but only as his roommate. Harry was alone.  
  
Reaching into the pocket of his dressing gown, Harry drew out Sirius' pocket watch. He had done as Remus said and kept it with him at all times since his birthday. It was always in his pocket or under his pillow - always within reach. Carefully now, he looked it over. Opening the case, running his finger over the engraved inscription. Such a beautiful watch must have great meaning and Harry felt, if only he could find it, there would be some comfort or encouragement for him. Though he examined it most thoroughly, he found nothing. No secret compartment, no charmed mirror hidden away, no spell inscribed on a hidden lid. Sighing, he returned it to his pocket.  
  
He looked out over the grounds again and had just focused on the moon. It was at New Gibbous and would be full in about a week. Remembering Dumbledore's message, Harry smiled slightly. He would hear from Remus in the 'fullness' of time. Remus would be at Hogwarts by the New Year. Harry felt a bit of the gloom lifting at the thought, but before it could be followed by any other cheering idea; he felt the now familiar shiver as the world slipped away from him. In his mind, he could see Sirius as Bellatrix Lestrange's curse struck his chest, sending him hurtling backwards through the veiled arch. Just beyond the arch, Dumbledore stood watching, his face impassive.  
  
Over and over, the scene replayed itself. Harry felt as if he must be screaming in anguish and hatred, but heard no sound, saw nothing but the horrible vision of Sirius' disappearance, filling his mind like an insane film loop. Harry had no idea how much time had passed when the cold wave washed over him, bringing him abruptly back to his darkened dorm. He only just realized where he was when the fatigue became too much and the dim view faded to absolute black.  
  
***  
  
The persistent thumping, to Harry's mind, was really irritating. With a muffled grunt, he tried rolling over, away from the sound, but the mattress didn't give under his shoulder and the sharp discomfort made his eyes pop open. The thumping continued and now Harry could hear the Weasley twins calling to him through the heavy wooden door. Slowly, he pulled himself upright, grappling with the concept of finding himself on the floor. A flash of light appeared in the keyhole and the door popped open, just as memories of last night's lapse flooded Harry's mind. He scrambled to his feet, decidedly ungraceful, as Fred and George burst into the room.  
  
"Blimey, Harry," spluttered George in exasperation. "You could have answered or something. We've been pounding on that door for nearly ten minutes!"  
  
"Yeah," agreed Fred, "we were beginning to think you had something to hide in here." His mischievous smirk didn't quite hide the genuine concern in his eyes. "What in blue blazes were you doing sleeping on the floor, anyway?"  
  
"Er, I was, um," Harry stammered, still feeling muddled from his collapse. "I was sitting in the window seat last night and must have fallen asleep." He grinned weakly. "Guess I was more tired than I thought."  
  
Before either twin could answer, Mrs. Weasley's voice sounded from the landing outside the door.  
  
"Fred, George, where -? Oh, there you two are. You father wants you downstairs. He's off to the Burrow for a bit to check the wards and wanted you two to go along and speed things up." She turned a bright smile on Harry. "Good morning, Harry dear. Had a good sleep?" Harry hesitated a second and Fred jumped in.  
  
"He fell asleep in the window seat, the silly git," looking carefully at Harry. "We had a bugger of a time waking the lazy bloke up." Fred exchanged a meaningful look with his twin - a look which did not escape their mother's notice.  
  
"Off with you two, now, your father is waiting," she said, pushing them lightly on the shoulder blades. "Clear off and let Harry get dressed, can't you?" Her sons left muttering good naturedly and she turned back with a concerned look to Harry. "You didn't sleep well, did you, Harry? Have you been dreaming again?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "No, I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley. Really. I just fell asleep watching out the window last night. I'm fine. I think I'll get dressed." He had no intention of letting anyone know about last night's lapse, not even Dumbledore. Especially not Dumbledore. He didn't want to face the headmaster with the memory of the man's face as he watched Sirius fall, playing through his mind. He felt confused and foggy about the whole thing. He'd done his level best not to see those images at all. To have the memory of Sirius' death and the actual sight of it thrust upon him was more than a little unsettling. No, he really didn't want to discuss it with anyone.  
  
Mrs. Weasley looked at him searchingly, but finally relented with a smile. She turned for the door, talking over her shoulder as she left. "Alright, then. You'll have to convince me you're all right by eating a proper breakfast. We'll see you downstairs soon, then, dear." Harry didn't hear her sad sigh as she gently shut the door behind her.  
  
Harry wasn't able to do justice to a truly large breakfast, but did manage to eat and even talk enough to satisfy Mrs. Weasley. Desperate to escape questions and his own thoughts, he was more than happy to go out with the others to the snowy grounds for what the twins promised would be a 'snow fight to end all snow fights.' Ginny joined them and had, miraculously, even convinced Hermione to come along, so Charlie, Bill, Ginny and Hermione teamed up against Harry and the twins. Actually, the twins had insisted that they needed no help, but were only too glad to have Harry and his reflexes, all the same.  
  
Charlie and Bill went right to work, building an imposing scale model of the front wall of the castle with charmed snow. The others busily made dozens of snowballs, piling them in great piles around the back side of the Charlie and Bill's wall and near various bushes and tree stumps out in front of the snow castle. Once, Harry was certain he'd seen Fred waving his wand over some of the snowballs, but when he whipped around for a second look, Fred was already shaping more missiles and shouting for Ginny to help him create a stockpile by a particularly large stump.  
  
When Bill was satisfied with the snow castle and the others were tired of making snowballs, Charlie beckoned Harry to him. "I trust you more than the twins," he said grinning. "The hand on top gets the castle, right?" Harry nodded and Charlie tossed his wand in the air, catching it as it fell. Harry placed his hand above and Charlie was just able to get a fingerhold on the tip, gaining the snow fort for his team.  
  
Harry rejoined the twins who had already taken shelter behind some nearby bushes to plan their attack.  
  
"Harry, my lad," announced George cheerfully, "I don't want you to feel disappointed that Charlie beat you out for the snow fort." He nodded toward his twin. "Fred, here, has already taken care of that."  
  
"Yep. No worries." Fred replied and, taking his wand from his cloak, pointed it at the fort where the top of Bill's head could just be seen as they crouched behind it, planning. "Arpegiata sempre en tiempo," he said calmly.  
  
"What did you just do?" Harry asked distrustfully.  
  
"A simple animating charm, Harry. That's all - with a slight delay built in." The identical smirks before Harry would have been worrisome had he been on the receiving end. As it was, Harry could afford to be amused.  
  
"And just what are you two animating, anyway?  
  
"All in good time, Harry, all in good time."  
  
With that, Fred and George rose and pierced the frosty air with identical battle cries. Charging forward, arms full of snowballs and Harry at their heels, they launched a full, frontal assault on the snow fort. The first volley of snowballs had just come from behind the wall when Fred drew his wand again and yelled.  
  
"Tempus est!"  
  
Another flurry of snowballs came hurtling from behind the snow castle wall but at Fred's cry, they checked their flight and began swirling in the air. George rushed through the chaos of wildly whizzing snowballs, firing his own with great accuracy at any glimpse of red hair that appeared above the wall. With a shout of laughter, Harry realized what they had done. All of the pre-made snowballs coming from the castle would be charmed to fly about erratically. Theirs, on the other hand, were still behaving like proper snowballs. Grinning manically, Harry rushed in just behind George, Fred close behind.  
  
It took only a few moments for Charlie to realize what had happened. Laughing, he seized a fistful of snow from the ground at his feet and called to his teammates, "Make new ones! All of those snowballs are charmed! You great daft beggars! I'll have those red mops for pelts, see if I don't!"  
  
With his quick reflexes, Harry was able to dodge most of the erratic missiles and was soon scaling the snowy wall before him. Just as he pulled himself to the top and was about to drop over, he was met with an enormous load of snow, striking both sides of his head simultaneously. The snow still clinging to his glasses and sliding down his collar, his shoulders were seized by two pairs of hands and he was pulled over to land in an ungainly heap on the ground below.  
  
Swiping the snow from his face with a yelp, he looked up into the rosy, determined faces of Hermione and Ginny. Hermione was laughing and scooping snow to finish the job of packing his collar, but Ginny's face was brilliant with the light of battle. Grabbing one of Harry's ankles, she dragged him, much to his surprise as he was now quite a bit larger than she, over to Bill.  
  
"Got one! Quick, bind his feet and keep him out of the way."  
  
Bill looked down at Harry in surprise. "Wow, Harry. Whatever did you do to get her so riled up?" Fortunately, he didn't seem to expect an answer and, still chuckling, he cast a light binding charm on Harry's feet, adding a warming charm so he wouldn't freeze waiting for the battle to end.  
  
And the battle was certainly nearing an end. Harry soon decided he was glad to have an excuse to stay out of it. Charlie and Ginny soon proved themselves to be every bit as ruthless as Fred and George. They hadn't time to create charmed snowballs of their own, but both were especially adept at making icy snowballs, tightly packed and frosted with their breath. They landed these on the twins' necks with stinging slaps that made Harry wince. Bill and Hermione were, with predictable precision, pasting the intruders with any snow that came to hand. In an amazing and somewhat disturbing display of aggression, Ginny hurled herself over the wall, knocking Fred to the ground and landing squarely on his chest. Scrubbing his face in the snow, she yelled.  
  
"Give! Give, you clod! I've got you! GIVE!"  
  
By now, Fred's mouth was too full of snow to answer and George was hardly any help as he was laughing too hard to speak. Gasping and squirming, Fred managed a muffled grunt which Ginny accepted as surrender and George, left by himself, soon followed. After packing the collars of both her twin brothers, Ginny let them go and returned, triumphant, to her teammates. Harry, still bound at the ankles, was suddenly unreasonably happy at the outcome.  
  
After such a tempestuous morning, the afternoon was spent more quietly by the great cheerful fire in the Gryffindor common room. They took turns going in small groups to visit Ron and Annwyl. Harry was glad to see, when his turn came to go, that both Ron and Annwyl were sitting up, looking alert and more than ready to leave the hospital ward.  
  
"I can't believe I missed the snow fight," Ron moaned, flopping back against his pillows disconsolately. "Oh, I would have loved to see the look on Fred's face. And yours, Harry, when Ginny dragged you off by your leg!" He chuckled appreciatively.  
  
Hermione turned to Annwyl and smiled, "You certainly look as if you are feeling better, Professor."  
  
"Outside of class, Hermione, I think you may call me Annwyl. The others sort of got in the habit over the summer." Annwyl smiled but her eyes were still a little shadowed. "I do feel much more myself, thank you, but I don't have Ron's resilience. I admit I am still feeling rather worn."  
  
"And that is precisely why the two of you will be staying right where you are until tomorrow evening," Madame Pomfrey announced firmly, entering the ward. "I think you should be able to manage the Christmas dinner if you promise to head straight away to bed right after. A few more days of rest and you should both be quite up to your usual levels." With that, she shooed the visitors away.  
  
***  
  
Harry resolutely put his visions and lapses behind him that night and managed a respectable night's sleep. When he awoke the next morning, instead of a pile of presents on the foot of his bed, there was a note telling him to join the others in the common room. Sleepily pulling on his dressing gown, he stumbled down the stairs, joining Bill and Charlie on the landing. Entering the common room below, they found everyone else already there and waiting.  
  
Before the chairs around the room were piles of gifts. It didn't take long for Harry, Charlie and Bill to find their place and everyone tore into their presents, laughing and joking all the while. There were books for all from Hermione, tricks and jokes from the twins, Weasley sweaters from Mrs. Weasley and mounds of treacle fudge sent up from Hagrid's hut. Piles of Honeydukes sweets passed around from the others, sugar quills, Everyflavor beans, chocolate frogs and fizzing whizbees enough to give everyone in the castle a toothache.  
  
After the merry gift exchange, the day was passed in quiet, friendly pursuits. The weather had changed during the night and a stiff, snow-laden wind moaned around the castle walls making a snow fight out of the question. Instead, they played chess and Exploding Snap and read their new books. Harry spent a considerable time with Bill, looking over the book of heckling charms he'd received for his birthday. With Bill's help, Harry mastered the page-erasing charm with which, he successfully blanked (temporarily) all the pages of Hermione's copy of Hogwarts: a History. Hermione wasn't amused until the words reappeared several hours later. He had nearly figured out Podomentus - the tripping charm, but after managing a few surprise attacks on unsuspecting Weasleys, they all grew too wary of him for him to practice any further.  
  
The dinner hour found all the faculty, the Weasleys, Hermione and Harry gathered in the Great Hall. Despite the small gathering, the decorations were as grand as ever. The customary twelve great fir trees were resplendent with fairy lights, tinkling crystal-like bells, everlasting icicles and tiny gold and silver song birds which softly sang carols throughout the meal. Ron and Annwyl were there, Ron in his own brightly colored Weasley sweater (by some miracle, deep blue rather than maroon), Annwyl in uncharacteristically floaty sort of robes of deep purple. As Harry looked around, he noticed the nearly all the others, too, had donned Weasley sweaters or other festive attire. Dumbledore sported a particularly brilliant silver robe while Professor McGonagall had restricted herself to her usual tartan band and cluster of thistles on her peaked hat. Only Snape appeared in his same, severe black.  
  
Harry was, again, grateful for the merry uproar that kept everyone too occupied to ask him questions about Percy or his feeble attempt to cover being found flat out on his dorm room floor. Outwardly, he had maintained the appearance of festive cheer. Inwardly, he was plagued by what he had seen during his lapse the night before. Though he had often replayed the events of that night at the Department of Mysteries, he had never recalled seeing Dumbledore at the moment of Sirius' disappearance through the veil. It was disturbing. That expression of bland indifference was so unlike what Harry would have expected.  
  
But was it? Harry had to admit that he had been struck at the time by Dumbledore's calm acceptance of Sirius' loss. Come to that, hadn't Dumbledore told Voldemort, during their duel, that he didn't consider death as the greatest evil. Evidently, Dumbledore had chosen to accept the lives of those engaged in this battle against Voldemort as a price that he was fine with paying. Okay, so the overall result was surely of prime importance. Voldemort must be defeated. But the price already exacted, to Harry's mind, was too terrible to face. The quiet acquiescence of the headmaster became more and more painful as Harry saw, again and again, that expression on the old wizard's face.  
  
Harry hadn't realized how long he had been sitting in silent, aching reflection. He jumped when Dumbledore's voice spoke at his side.  
  
"Harry, my boy, is everything alright?" The headmaster stood next to Harry's chair, looking down with eyebrows drawn. In surprise, Harry saw that nearly everyone had risen from the table and was making their way from the Hall. "You've grown quite solemn and Molly mentioned you hadn't been sleeping well. Is there anything you think you'd like to tell me, Harry?"  
  
Harry looked into those blue eyes and for a brief moment, he felt silly for having ever doubted this man. The old face had grown much more deeply lined of late and the brilliant twinkle of the eyes was increasingly absent. Harry realized with a guilty shock that he had never really paid attention. But in the next breath, Harry saw again in his mind's eye, the moment that Sirius was lost to them. He lowered his gaze, shaking his head slightly.  
  
"No, sir. I'm fine. I just fell asleep in the window seat the other night, is all. Mrs. Weasley is worrying too much." He mustered a weak sort of smile. "Everything is fine."  
  
Dumbledore looked into Harry's face searchingly, as if unsatisfied, but nodded at last and turned to go. He looked back over his shoulder as he left the Hall.  
  
"Happy Christmas, then, Harry."  
  
***  
  
The next several days passed much as the first had, with the exception of the holiday festivities. There were several more snowball fights - though none as spectacular as the first - and, now that Ron was back in Gryffindor tower, long evenings of chess tournaments. Five days passed away in this quiet way but on the morning of the sixth, Harry was called aside after breakfast by Dumbledore.  
  
"Harry, I think I should like for you to spend some time in the dungeons today. For now, you had best go on your own, but perhaps, after you have seen our friend, you might take along Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley. Consult with our friend and proceed as he thinks best. The door will continue to open, however, only to your wand."  
  
Harry needed no urging and as soon as the others had gone off to their snow fights and chess games, Harry drifted away, mercifully unnoticed, and hurried to the deep dungeon corridor where Remus' hiding place lay. Knocking lightly, he touched his wand tip to the great rune and slipped in the door.  
  
Harry was shocked by what he saw. Remus, never very strong or healthy looking, had grown more weary looking than ever. His hair had grown longer and Harry could see more gray mixed into the light brown. His face was thinner and more pale. Seeing the surprise and worry in Harry's expression, he smiled and shook his head.  
  
"Don't look at me like that, Harry. You'll give me a complex. It's alright, really. I just didn't have access to the Wolfsbane during the last lunar cycle and it rather took it out of me. I'm feeling much better this time round. In fact, if I keep living in these cushy conditions, I'll soon be growing fat and soft."  
  
Harry found himself unable to answer so he merely nodded. Remus led him over to the sitting area and they dropped into the tweed armchairs. After a few moments of awkward silence, Harry ventured to ask what had been learned about Voldemort's attacks and his plans for the werewolves and his soul-imposed victims. Not surprisingly, Remus declined to give Harry much of an answer, but he did fill Harry in on a few things.  
  
"Well, as you already knew, many of the werewolves have opted to join the Death Eaters, even the muggle werewolves, which, frankly, I find ironic." Remus sighed. "I wish there was some way to find out what their role in all this will be. They've, no doubt, been promised the moon, if you'll forgive the expression, for their cooperation."  
  
Nothing further had been learned about Percy Weasley or his whereabouts. The only thing the Order had been able to discover was that Percy's last known contact at the Ministry had, in fact, been a Death Eater infiltrator. It was still not known if Percy had gone with the man willingly or had been coerced in some way. The Ministry had, officially, refused to accept that any Death Eaters had infiltrated and was dismissing Percy's disappearance as the result of overwork and strain. The only good news in that was that it spared the Weasley family any unsavory publicity, at least for the time being.  
  
After a morning spent in general sort of conversation, Harry asked Remus what he thought about bringing Ron and Hermione to see him. Remus was enthusiastic and Harry set off at once for Gryffindor tower.  
  
Harry had expected a much more shocked response from his friends when he whispered to them that he was taking them to see Remus. Ron nodded as if it was the most natural communication in the world, and Hermione spoke calmly.  
  
"Well, we figured the headmaster would help Remus hide and really, where better to hide than here? But have you really known all this time, Harry, without telling us?" There was a trace of disappointment in her voice.  
  
"Well, he's only been here for one full moon and that was just before Halloween. You two were sort of, er, busy then and anyway, Dumbledore wouldn't let me tell you."  
  
Remus greeted them with smiles and though Ron and Hermione were as shocked by Remus' appearance as Harry had been, they wisely said nothing. Instead, they asked the same sort of questions Harry had. Remus was equally evasive with them, but his tone was gentle as he tried to answer Ron's questions regarding Percy as tactfully as possible.  
  
"Don't worry, Remus," Ron sighed. "I know Percy's in more trouble than anyone can really guess. I just wish there was some way to know how he got mixed up in such a stinking mess."  
  
"We'll find out, Ron. One way or another," Remus answered. "I promise."  
  
Evidently thinking it best to turn the subject, Hermione jumped in to ask Remus what he knew about the Hufflepuff Annwyl had dueled with in school. Remus looked surprised, but Hermione merely shrugged.  
  
"I was interested in the house relations in those days, you know? I mean, it wasn't usual for a Hufflepuff to have a disagreement with a Ravenclaw, was it?"  
  
Remus frowned. "Hufflepuff? I don't recall that the bloke was in Hufflepuff. He could have been, I suppose. I was always under the impression he was a Slytherin. I don't recall his name, though. Sorry." He shrugged dismissively, clearly not overly concerned with the whole subject.  
  
Ron started to speak, but Hermione interrupted, shooting him a meaningful look. "I guess we must have been mistaken, then. Right, Harry?" She glanced at Harry's surprised face and visibly relaxed when he nodded dumbly. "After all, that is more in keeping with house tradition. Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs generally do get along."  
  
***  
  
Harry didn't see Remus again for a couple of days as the moon was full and Remus had asked for an extra day to recover before Harry came to visit again. So, he agreed to visit, instead, after dinner on the second day after the full moon.  
  
That evening at dinner, the group was more giddy than ever. Ron had felt well enough to join the others outside for a brief period and though he wasn't up for a great deal of horseplay, he had managed to fill George's ear with a particularly slushy snowball. This put him in a fine humor the rest of the day. The resulting gloating and good natured teasing back and forth among the Weasley siblings enlivened the meal considerably. They had only just begun on the puddings when Professor Snape suddenly blanched and stiffened in his chair. It is likely no one would have noticed had he not risen abruptly, cutting off one of Mr. Weasely's tales of bewitched teacups in muggle shops.  
  
"Headmaster, do forgive me," Snape said, his voice tight. "I find I have left some unfinished work and I must attend to it at once, lest the entire effort be wasted." Not waiting for an answer, he nodded curtly to the table and swept from the Hall. Harry watched him go and thought he could see the man clutching his left forearm as he passed through the doorway.  
  
The conversation which had checked at the sudden interruption resumed more quietly. After a few moments, Annwyl rose, looking rather pale. "While I have enjoyed the conversation enormously, I find I am still rather tired by the end of the day. Please excuse me. I believe I shall go back to my rooms before Madame Pomfrey finds it necessary to chase me there." She left amid a chorus of good nights.  
  
Harry watched her and remembered the parchment she had dropped in the corridor. He had never told Professor Dumbledore about it and, as time passed, Harry began to feel it would be futile to mention it at all. Surely, her own godfather could not be expected to believe her as much a threat as the note implied. Harry might have taken it to Remus, but knowing how his father's old friend felt about this mysterious woman, Harry had no more hopes of being believed by Remus than he had of convincing Dumbledore. No, Harry decided, it would be best to keep a more private watch on the situation.  
  
After dinner, Harry excused himself and slipped away to the dungeons to see Remus. Once he was fairly inside, Remus asked about Annwyl.  
  
"She hasn't been to see me yet and I heard she was injured with Ron. Is she still recovering?  
  
"Sort of," Harry answered. "She left dinner early tonight saying she was tired."  
  
"I see. Well, I had thought you could go fetch her to join us, but perhaps not." Remus looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, maybe you could take a message to her for me, Harry. I'd like to know she's alright."  
  
So, Harry set off, Remus' note in hand, and knocked on the Potions chamber door. Getting no response, he was about to slip the note under the door and go when he realized that the door stood slightly ajar from his knock. Looking around carefully to see if he was being watched, he pushed the door open and entered.  
  
"Annwyl?" Harry looked around, listening. The chambers were empty. 


	13. A Mind In Turmoil

Disclaimer: Please see previous chapters.  
  
Author's Notes: As always, my heartfelt thanks to my beta, Moriah S. Also, my gratitude and loffly sugar kisses to my reviewers. Your comments help make this a better story. As we are now about five or six chapters from the conclusion of LotM, any constructive criticism you can offer will help me enormously as we all gear up for the inevitable fun and games with Lord Thingy.  
  
HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND  
  
Chapter 13 - A Mind in Turmoil  
  
Harry's thoughts were whirling madly as he stood in the center of the silent, empty Potions professor's sitting room. He could see he didn't need to go any further into Annwyl's chambers. The doors were all ajar and there was a subtle air of confusion. She was gone and probably in a hurry. Taking a deep breath, Harry plunged back into the passageway and ran back along the way he had come. He reached Remus' hiding place breathless.  
  
"Remus," he gasped as he flung himself through the doorway. "She's gone. She isn't in her rooms."  
  
Remus had leapt to his feet at Harry's entrance, but now relaxed his tense stance slightly.  
  
"Is that all, Harry? The way you pelted in here, I thought you were coming to tell me there were death eaters at our very door." He turned and made to sit back down. "She can't have gone far. You can try to deliver that message again after a bit."  
  
"But her door wasn't closed properly and there was just something about the place..." Harry's voice trailed off, but his eyes were filled with worry. Just where had she gone? Somehow, he felt it wasn't an innocent stretch of the legs that had her away from the dungeons just now.  
  
"Her door wasn't closed?" It was Remus' turn to look concerned. "I've never seen her leave so much as a broom cupboard without a locking spell." He scuffed at the fringe of the large area rug before the fire with one toe, absently, as he stood deep in thought. "Harry, who else is in the dungeons now? Any students?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "The Slytherins have all gone home for the holidays. There's only Snape and Annwyl down here now." He quirked an eyebrow. "Actually, I don't think even Snape is here right now."  
  
"What makes you say that?" Remus asked sharply. "Where else would he be?"  
  
"Only that he left dinner early, as well," Harry answered. He described the professor's abrupt departure and his impression of the man gripping his forearm as he exited the Hall. "I thought it was possible that Voldemort has summoned him or something. My scar has been stinging for days, so there's no way to be sure."  
  
"Right," answered Remus. "I suppose that settles it. Let's go out and have a look round." He waved off Harry's objections before they were spoken. "I know I'm supposed to stay here but I have a feeling we ought to look into this right away. I plan to stay right here in the dungeons and it seems the worst I'm liable to meet is Snape, and probably not even him. I want you to go to Dumbledore straight away. Bring him down here and meet me in the Potions chambers."  
  
Still feeling doubtful, Harry followed Remus from the room. They moved swiftly along the corridor, making almost no noise. They were just climbing a small set of stone steps into the Potions corridor when a movement from an intersecting passage brought them up sharply. Remus, whose wand was already drawn, grabbed Harry and tried to melt back into the shadows. A sneering voice told them they had not been quick enough.  
  
"Potter, whatever are you doing here at this hour? Surely, you realize that even though the school is on holiday, there are curfews and boundaries. Yet, here you are, out quite late and quite far from your common room." Snape glided out of the shadowy intersecting passage and stood over Harry. "Ah," his eyes widening unpleasantly, lighting on Remus, "of course. I suppose this was to be expected. I knew Albus must have tucked you away somewhere, Lupin. Of course, the Ministry would never suspect that the great Dumbledore would hide you in plain sight."  
  
"Good evening, Severus," Remus answered smoothly. "How lovely to see you, as well. From what Harry told me of your exit from the Hall earlier, I didn't expect to see you so soon. Your master didn't seem to keep you long."  
  
Snape's sallow features blanched and he turned a furious gaze on Harry. Before he could speak, a sound from around the turn in the corridor ahead of them drew their attention. Light footsteps echoed faintly off the stone walls. With a sharp gesture, Snape herded them into a shadowed niche. They watched, wands ready, waiting for the unseen person to round the corner. When, at last, a shadow of the figure could be seen on the wall of the corridor, Remus let out a sigh of relief and stepped from their hiding place.  
  
"Annwyl! Thank goodness."  
  
"Great Caesar's Ghost!" Annwyl jumped, nearly dropping the tray she carried. "Remus, what are you doing out of... wait. What is going on around here?" She looked at Snape and Harry, first in amazement and then in displeasure, as they emerged from the shadows.  
  
"I haven't the least notion what brings Lupin and Potter out to scamper the hallways, but as my chambers are down this corridor, I think my presence requires no explanation, Professor," answered Snape, his voice curling with impatience.  
  
Remus ignored him, looking directly at Annwyl. "I sent Harry to you with a message but he came back saying you weren't in your rooms and your door was unlocked." He looked at her questioningly. "Where were you, Wyl?"  
  
"Well, for Merlin's sake, Remus," Annwyl said with a touch of exasperation, "I am able to find my way about Hogwarts, you know. I was in the kitchens getting some tea and toast." She gestured slightly with her tray.  
  
"And you couldn't conjure some tea, Professor?" Snape asked. "You had to go all the way to the kitchens?"  
  
Harry looked at him in surprise, uncertain as to why the Defense professor would have any interest in the matter and so suddenly. Annwyl clearly felt the same and turned to him with calculated sweetness in her voice.  
  
"Why, Professor, of course, I could have conjured the tea, but," here she smiled brightly, though the expression did not reach her eyes, "you know as well as I that conjured tea is never as satisfying as that which is steeped in a proper pot."  
  
"And you keep no such teapot in your chambers?" Snape pushed. Now, even Remus was gawking at the man in amazement. "Surely, such a connoisseur as yourself would have the appropriate accoutrements at hand."  
  
Annwyl's eyes narrowed. "Generally, I have, Professor. However, I recently loaned my tea things to, er..." She glanced over at Remus. "To a friend."  
  
Remus swallowed and seemed to collect himself. "Yes, of course. That explains it. I'm sorry to come haring after you, Wyl, but when Harry said you had left dinner early and then, he found your chambers unlocked, well, I was concerned." He smiled at her. "I should know better, of course, but that is my nervous disposition for you."  
  
"Well, for now, we need to get you back where you belong right away," she chided. "Anyone could have seen you tonight, Remus. Please, go back straightaway and lock yourself in. We can't have you taking such wild chances. Go along, I'll come behind and you can share my tray." She turned to Harry and Professor Snape. "Will you both join us?"  
  
"I thank you, no," Snape answered, his distaste only thinly veiled. "I shall retire to my chambers. Good evening to you." He turned abruptly and headed off along the passage.  
  
"And you, Harry," Annwyl prodded, "Join us?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "No, thanks. I, er, think I'll head up to the common room. The others will be wondering where I've gone. Good night, Remus. Good night, Annwyl."  
  
Harry walked slowly up the flights of stairs toward Gryffindor tower. He was trying to decide if he believed Annwyl. Clearly, Snape did not. Remus was a bit harder to read. Certainly, he wanted to believe Annwyl's story. Harry felt only confusion. The trip to the kitchens for tea and toast was a dodgy ploy, at best. However, if Annwyl hadn't been to the kitchens, then where had she been? Harry reached the Fat Lady's portrait without coming to any useful conclusion.  
  
In the common room, Harry found Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred and George sitting before the fire. Ginny and Fred were toasting marshmallows and George was trying to charm them to stuff themselves into Ron's mouth. Hermione was wisely keeping out of the way, but Harry noticed she did manage to banish one or two particularly insistent marshmallows while George ducked pillows Ron was tossing at him.  
  
Harry flopped down on the couch next to Ron and reached out, snagged one of the hovering marshmallows and popped it in his mouth. George, untroubled, merely sent another Ron's way. Hermione leaned around Ron and smiled at Harry.  
  
"Had a good walk, did you, Harry?" Her smile told him she knew exactly where he'd been.  
  
"Er, yeah. Felt good to stretch. Too much pudding," Harry mumbled absently as he caught another marshmallow and took a bite.  
  
"Well, those will hardly help, mate," laughed Fred. "Mind, you could hold another stone or two without doing your seeking any harm."  
  
"That's right," agreed George. "In fact, a bit more weight, now you've got so much taller, and you'd be able to sit your broom more solidly. Bludgers wouldn't knock you about so easily." With that he sent a few extra marshmallows zooming Harry's direction.  
  
"Oi," objected Harry mildly, "What're you trying to do to me? A stone or two? Blimey, I'd look like Goyle." With a shudder, he swept the floating candies aside.  
  
The others laughed heartily at the image. Fred and George began laying out a full plan for the development of Harry's physique which convulsed Ron and Hermione and made Harry blush furiously. Ginny, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, rose from her spot on the hearth.  
  
"I think I'll go up, now. I could do with some extra revision," she said, her voice expressionless. "OWLs and all." She was frowning as she turned to go.  
  
"Oh, Ginny," Harry rose and followed, carrying a book, "you left your Charms text." She accepted the book without comment, merely nodding her thanks, and quietly went upstairs.  
  
Harry watched her go, puzzled at the cold response. She had seemed, since the pre-Christmas snow fight, to have let go of their past quarrel, at least a bit, and Harry had found himself unexpectedly relieved. Shaking his head slightly, he returned to his place beside Ron on the couch. The others seemed unaware of anything unusual, except for Fred, who watched the exchange with slightly narrowed eyes. He nodded to Harry slightly as he sat down again, but said nothing.  
  
After a little longer and a few more jibes directed at Harry about his impending Goyle-ness, the twins excused themselves and headed upstairs. Harry, thinking that, perhaps, Ron and Hermione would like a bit of time alone together, rose to follow Fred and George. Ron stopped him, however, and was eagerly seconded by Hermione.  
  
"Please stay, Harry," she begged. "We three haven't really talked in ages." Harry couldn't help smiling at her and really, she was right. They hadn't properly talked since before Halloween. He sat down on some cushions before the fire, not sorry to stay with them.  
  
Ron leaned forward. "Harry, were you visiting Moony after dinner, tonight?" Harry nodded. "How is he? Did you tell him about Snape?" Harry looked up sharply in surprise. "Oh, don't tell me you didn't see it, Harry?"  
  
"Yes," added Hermione excitedly. "Didn't you see? He was clutching his left arm as he left the hall."  
  
"Well, yeah," agreed Harry, "I did see that, but I didn't realize anyone else could see it. And, yes, I did tell Remus, but it actually came up after some other stuff." He quickly told them about finding Annwyl's chambers open and empty, running into Snape as he returned to his quarters, and then, finding Annwyl coming back from what looked like a trip to the kitchens.  
  
"Well, this is right around the new year, isn't it?" Hermione commented with a frown. When the two boys looked blank, she tsked impatiently. "It's in that note Harry picked up. She's to give a full report by New Year. If Professor Snape was called to a Death Eater meeting of some kind, mightn't she have gone, too?"  
  
"I don't see how," Ron said. "Snape would have been only too happy to tell the Order if she was showing up at meetings with that lot."  
  
Harry looked thoughtful. "Well, you both could be right, but which? She certainly could have been at a meeting, but she didn't leave when Snape did and she wasn't holding her arm. How would we even know if she has a dark mark?"  
  
They sat quietly a moment, rather stumped for an answer. Hermione straightened suddenly, smiling.  
  
"I think I know how we can find out and we won't have to go anywhere near her to do it. Do you remember those dress robes she was wearing at Christmas dinner?" The boys nodded. "If I recall correctly, the sleeves were chiffon. We might be able to see through them and see if her arm is marked." Ron goggled at her as if she had gone mad.  
  
"Hermione, I don't see her showing up to Potions class in get up like that, so just how do you propose we look through her sleeves?"  
  
"With my Contemplation Sphere," Harry spoke up. "Hermione, you think we will be able to see her arm in my memory, right?" She nodded happily. "I hope you're right. I'm not sure I spent much time staring at her arms."  
  
Harry went up to the dorm to retrieve his sphere and hurried back to the fireside. The three huddled around the silvery ball and watched intently as Harry cast the Memorarae charm. A few minutes later, they sat back with a sigh.  
  
"Well, that's that," Hermione said, sounding somewhat relieved. "There was no mark on her arm. Good thing you were sitting near her Harry. We got a pretty good look at her left arm."  
  
"Yeah," agreed Harry, "I guess that's good news. She must really have been in the kitchens." He looked doubtful.  
  
Ron started to comment, but his words were lost in an enormous yawn. Hermione frowned. "Ron, you should go right up. Madame Pomfrey wouldn't like you tiring yourself out so soon after the accident."  
  
"I know, I know. I'm fine. Just getting a little tired. I'll go up in a few minutes. Harry, what about that accident? Any ideas about why your cauldron went up like that?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "Annwyl tried to talk to me before she passed out, but all she said was that the potion was fine and that something must have made the cauldron shake. I can't think what, though. There wasn't anyone near it but me, and I was facing the other way." Harry closed his eyes, remembering. "Ron, if you hadn't noticed the potion starting to go..." He left the unpleasant thought unfinished as Hermione shuddered and slid closer to Ron, her arm outstretched and resting on Harry's shoulder.  
  
"Don't, please," she said quietly. "I don't want to think about it. It was so horrible, I don't want to remember."  
  
Ron put an arm around her and drew her close to his side. "It's alright, Hermione. We're all okay and that is what really matters." He smiled at Harry. "But, next time you blow up a cauldron, mate, do you think you can aim it toward Malfoy?"  
  
Laughing, the three rose and went toward their respective staircases. Harry was halfway up when Ron caught up to him. "Ron," he whispered, "I do want to thank you for what you did, jumping in front of my cauldron like that." Ron shook his head and led the way into their dorm.  
  
"Harry, no need. You know I had to do that. You would have, if it had been my potion. We're in all of this together, right? You won't forget that?" Ron had never looked so serious. "Together, Harry. You've just got to know that." Harry nodded silently, his throat tight.  
  
Nothing more was said.  
  
***  
  
The few remaining days of the Christmas holidays went by quietly. They visited Remus a few more times before he left the castle and were pleased to see him looking far healthier when he left than he had upon his arrival. Once, Annwyl joined them and they spent the afternoon fencing. Once again, she lectured them all on the importance of focusing their mind.  
  
"You've just got to master yourselves," she said sternly. "All this business about having too much on your mind is a load of rubbish. It's when your mind is full that you most need to bring your thoughts under control." She glared at them as if they had openly challenged her. "And, it can be done."  
  
Harry did sincerely wish to get his whirling thoughts under control. The mysterious note left behind by Annwyl, the unexplained potion accident, Draco Malfoy's earlier threats, Professor Dumbledore's sudden collapse, Percy Weasley's apparent involvement with Voldemort and his Death Eaters... the list of things weighing on his mind was getting frighteningly long and, though he felt he ought to be doing something, anything, he had absolutely no idea where to begin. His only real relief had been in seeing that Remus was, for the time being, reasonably safe and healthy.  
  
Although there had been no more lapses, Harry had had plenty of vague, uncomfortable dreams. Again and again, he saw Sirius fall through the veil and, while this was not really a new dream, the sight of Dumbledore looking on was a new and unpleasant addition. There were also dreams of Remus running. It wasn't clear to Harry just who or what he was running from or where Remus was, but the impression of fear and the need to escape was clear.  
  
These dreams were bad enough, but even worse, Harry thought, were the dreams in which he, himself, was running. He could feel something chasing him but never saw or heard his pursuer. Dream Harry would run until he felt as if his legs would buckle and his lungs burst and, just as he was certain he could run no further, he would see Ron and Hermione standing just ahead. Relief would sweep over him, but only for a moment, for as he reached them, his arms out in supplication, they turned their backs and walked away, hand in hand, leaving him. From this dream, Harry always woke in horror, his scar prickling, his breath uneven, his heart thudding painfully. In the morning, Harry would be pale and red-eyed. Although Ron and Hermione would look worried and ask what was wrong, Harry was reluctant to tell them about the dreams. They were only dreams, after all, and he really didn't think he could stand the fuss that would be made over him if anyone knew.  
  
The new term began and Harry was glad for the bustle of the castle full of students. It was easier to draw his friends' attention away from him with all the uproar of classes and seeing other friends. Also helpful to Harry was the return of quidditch practices and dueling club meetings. The next matches were some weeks away yet, but Harry drilled the team relentlessly in various strategic flying positions and scoring maneuvers. While wearing himself out didn't prevent the dreams at night, he found he was better able to push their memories aside while he zoomed around the pitch.  
  
At the first dueling club meeting of the new term, Professor Snape had been waiting for them in the Great Hall, standing on a great dais in the center of the room. There were a few murmurs of surprise moving around the room as Snape hadn't had much to say about anything at their previous meetings, but the whispers soon stopped at the sight of the Defense professor's face.  
  
"As you can see, we shall begin some genuine fighting this evening. As entertaining as Professor King's escapades have been, I feel it is high time we tested your mettle." He began pacing around the edge of the raised circle. "The niceties of proper dueling are all well and good, but you will rarely encounter a hostile attacker willing to spend precious time on the courtesies. Tonight, we shall begin teaching you to defend yourselves in a more realistic manner."  
  
A number of students, especially the younger ones, began shifting about uncomfortably. Ron, Hermione and Harry exchanged uneasy glances and looked over to the far corner of the Hall where Annwyl stood, glowering at the proceedings. Harry couldn't help wondering if Dumbledore was aware of this new direction and if it was at all a good idea to stick around for what Snape was planning to dish out. Snape stepped down off the dais and began moving through the assembled students.  
  
"Very likely, you will encounter groups of individuals wishing you ill," he said as he stalked about the room. "Consequently, we shall focus on teaching you to defend yourselves against multiple opponents. To begin, you will come forward in groups of three. As you are beginners, all three combatants will work independently. As we progress, we shall have some of you teaming up against a single opponent. In this way, you will all have the opportunity to work in groups and to defend yourself from a group."  
  
By now, even the shuffling has ceased and the students gaped at Snape in fear. Harry knew that it would be beneficial to learn such defense strategies, but he had learned from directing the D.A. his previous year that the wide variations in skill and age could make this a very difficult task for many in the room. Not surprisingly, the sneer on the Defense professor's face deepened as he sensed the apprehension in the group. He swept back up onto the dais in the center.  
  
"You will come forward as your name is called." Harry felt a sick sensation of inevitability as he heard the first three names called. "Zabini, Potter and Malfoy."  
  
Harry heard Ron hiss in irritation, but shooting him what he hoped was a reassuring glance, he headed for the center of the room. Blaise Zabini had been much closer to the dais and was already waiting. Harry was somewhat encouraged to see that he looked nervous and uncertain. So much the better for Harry. Malfoy reached the raised circle and entered with his usual swagger, his eyes focused on Harry. Harry thought he probably ought to be worried about that look considering Malfoy's threats, but with so many students and even two professors looking on, surely not even Malfoy could get away with actually doing anything too vicious.  
  
"Now then," Snape said, standing in the center of the platform, "each of you is to be defending yourselves from the other two. You are permitted any jinx, hex, curse, or charm which will assist you in disarming your opponents, so long as no actual, lasting damage is done. You are, of course, to avoid those curses deemed illegal." His dark gaze flicked briefly over Harry and Malfoy. "You will begin on my signal and end when only one of you remains armed."  
  
Snape stepped down off the platform but remained just at its edge. Harry saw, at the edge of his vision, that Annwyl had moved forward from her corner and stood quite near, just behind Ron and Hermione. A silence fell over the watching students and Snape raised his wand. A jet of green sparks shot forward with a bang. Before the green flash had faded, a sizzling jet of red streaked out of Malfoy's wand to Harry's left. Ducking instinctively, Harry felt a tingle of magical energy ruffle his hair above his left ear. Dropping on all fours, Harry rolled over, coming quickly to his feet quite close to Blaise Zabini. The poor boy looked frightened and rather green. Harry, feeling he couldn't afford to waste anything on sympathy as another jinx whizzed by, pointed his wand.  
  
"Expelliarmus!" As Zabini's wand zoomed into Harry's hand, he whirled to face Malfoy. He could hear the Zabini jump off the dais with alacrity. Shoving the wand into his belt, Harry focused on Malfoy but not fast enough to avoid the Slytherin's well-placed Amputare. It was a strange sensation to feel as if one's left leg had disappeared from the knee down. Harry started to teeter, but Annwyl's lessons on mental focus must have taken root.  
  
It's not really gone, you prat, Harry told himself sternly. Just because you can't feel it doesn't mean it isn't there. Stay on your feet.  
  
Wobbling still, but upright, Harry shot back with a bat bogey hex which Malfoy only narrowly avoided. But Harry had followed it almost immediately with a jelly-legs jinx. Malfoy staggered badly, giving Harry a moment to adjust himself before the blonde boy could counter-jinx. Malfoy was quick however, and he retaliated with a stunning spell. It missed Harry easily, as Draco was still a bit off balance, but it did cause Harry to drop and roll to the opposite side of the platform. Harry desperately wanted to counter the Amputare on his leg, but Malfoy was too quick, giving him no time. So, Harry continued to fight from his knees, rolling from one place to another in a manner he was sure looked completely daft.  
  
After nearly fifteen minutes of this, however, Harry was beginning to tire. Malfoy, still on both legs, was moving easily and now seemed to be toying with Harry, enjoying his predicament. Realizing that he couldn't continue this way much longer, Harry's mind raced, groping for a spell which could help him. Suddenly, Harry saw how he might lure Malfoy into a vulnerable position. Clumsily, Harry somersaulted forward, yelling, "Avis!" A flight of tiny, fluttering birds burst forth into Draco's startled face causing him to step backward. Crawling forward as well as he could, Harry tried to position himself for another disarming spell. Unfortunately, Malfoy's own seeker reflexes had him back on his feet as the birds fluttered away, disappearing. The amused look in Draco's eyes was gone entirely as he leveled his wand at Harry.  
  
"Corpus diffendo!"  
  
As the words left Malfoy's mouth, several voices clamored around them. Harry heard Annwyl throwing a shielding charm toward him but couldn't tell if anything had happened. Hermione and Ron both shouted an impediment jinx which might have hit, but Harry couldn't be certain. He did, however, see Draco fly backwards with a crash as Luna and Ginny fired simultaneous reductor curses. He sailed right off the dais, hitting the floor with a sickening thud. Annwyl leaped up onto the dais and helped Harry to his feet, removing the Amputare jinx as she did so. Snape had hoisted Draco up and stood glaring at Annwyl, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Luna who were now grouped around Harry.  
  
"You were not to interfere, Professor," he began, but was promptly cut off by Annwyl's anger.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy was not to do any damage, Professor Snape. He used a body slicing curse!"  
  
"Professor Snape, you said we weren't to use any spell that would cause lasting damage," Draco spoke up, managing to regain a bit of his swagger and all of his ugly sneer. "A slicing curse is simple to counter and I was confident that you, Sir, had sufficient control of the situation to see that no real harm was done."  
  
Snape's expression was unreadable as he turned from his student and faced Annwyl. "This duel is considered null and void as there was interference from the spectators. Each student involved in the disruption has lost five points for his or her respective house." Harry and the others started to object, but Annwyl's response stopped them.  
  
"And Mr. Malfoy has lost twenty-five points for attempting to injure another student."  
  
Harry could see the anger in Snape's eyes but knew that there was nothing to be said. Annwyl was a professor and had as much authority with regard to house points as he. Her word was final as was his.  
  
Although Snape brought several more groups of students to the dais, it was clear that their concentration was badly shaken by what had happened. With a final growl of indignation, Snape dismissed them and swept from the room.  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione left the Hall together, but they had no sooner gained the Entrance Hall and turned toward the great staircase then they were confronted by Draco Malfoy.  
  
"Close shave tonight, Potter," he drawled. He turned an unpleasant, appraising stare on Hermione. "You know, Weasel, if she weren't a nasty mudblood know-it-all, I could almost understand what you see in her." He turned back to Harry, seemingly not noticing Hermione restraining a furious and swearing Ron. "Potter, I'm sure you haven't forgotten what I told you. I do intend to have you and I'm not alone." He gazed dispassionately at Harry's pale face and clenched jaw. "Yes, I do believe I'm going to enjoy this, Potter. Interestingly, I know just the thing." With that, he turned and strolled carelessly toward the dungeon staircase. 


	14. Changes In Attitude

Disclaimer: please see previous chapters  
  
Author's Notes: Kisses to my beta, Moriah S.! Guys, I can't thank you all enough for your reviews. They really help my writing far more than I think any of you guess. Keep in mind that this fic is now about 4 or 5 chapters from completion. This means your feedback is more important than ever!  
  
HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND  
  
Chapter 14 - Changes In Attitude  
  
To Ron and Hermione's surprise, Harry positively refused to discuss the duel with Malfoy. After their encounter in the Entrance Hall, Harry climbed to Gryffindor tower in silence and went straight to bed, declining any discussion. The days that followed were no different. If the subject was raised, Harry simply changed the subject. Hermione tried asking him, point blank, but instead of answering, he left them, offering a trip to the loo as an excuse.  
  
Otherwise, however, Harry was remarkably cheerful. Many of the Gryffindors eyed him with astonishment as he whistled in the corridors between classes, got up noisy games of Exploding Snap in the common room each evening and put his 101 heckling charms to good use on any unwary bystander. Not since the Weasley twins had left the previous year, had so many students been seen sporting feathers or oddly colored hair. He used the Podomentus charm so often, even Ron had taken to giving Harry a wide berth when carrying anything he cared about. In just two weeks, Harry managed to land detention with Filch for setting off Weasley Whiz Bangs in several suits of armor, with McGonagall for casting an ill-advised tripping charm which missed its intended first year target and struck her instead, and with Snape for... well, as far as anyone could tell, for being entirely too cheerful during Defense class. Hermione had warned Harry about the risks casting cheering charms on oneself, but her advice had gone unheeded. Only at night, did the somber desperation return to him. When his dorm mates were all asleep, Harry often sat at the window by his bed, watching out over the darkened grounds. Sleep had become less and less appealing as he seemed constantly to dream of Dumbledore's expressionless face, Ron and Hermione turning away from him, and fleeting images of Snape, Draco and Annwyl sneering at him, their faces morphing into horrible masks of the Dark Mark.  
  
Several weeks passed in this manner and Remus was, again, at the castle for the full moon. Harry, Ron and Hermione visited with him several times and, as had happened in previous visits, Annwyl joined them once for an intensive fencing lesson. The trio still felt uneasy about Annwyl, despite the various excuses to explain her behavior. Harry frowned darkly at her as she entered Remus' chambers. He just couldn't be comfortable with the fact that Remus' secure quarters were accessible to someone the Order felt required watching. Remus seemed entirely at ease, however, and was frankly delighted to have the opportunity to train with her.  
  
While he was fencing, Harry did seem to shed the restless trickster attitude and became quite serious. Annwyl praised him for his focus after a particularly grueling bout between the two of them.  
  
"Harry, I do believe you are getting the idea, at last," she said, smiling. "You didn't fall for any of my feints that time." Harry only nodded in reply.  
  
On the nights of the full moon, the tension in the school was palpable. This was the first full moon since the beginning of the new term and everyone had seen the news reports of the werewolves escaping and probably turning to Voldemort. While everyone realized they were safe enough in the castle, there was plenty of worry about what would happen outside the charms and wards of Hogwarts. Even Harry was showing his worry that evening. The common room was quiet for the first time in weeks as he had instigated no raucous Snap games and hadn't tripped anyone or turned any hair chartreuse all day. While he, too, was worried about what might be happening, he was more afraid of anyone discovering Remus in his dungeon chambers. No matter how often he reminded himself that only a select few knew of that chamber, Harry couldn't rid himself of the nagging worry.  
  
Te morning papers brought no good news. There had been scattered werewolf attacks, genuine attacks, all over the British Isles. While there had been no concentrated, organized mayhem, it seemed they were choosing to create fear and chaos by unpredictability. Whatever Voldemort may have had in mind for the werewolves now standing with him, it was a serious matter for everyone, magic and muggle alike. Even the werewolves who remained on the run, hiding from both Voldemort and the Ministry, must be considered dangerous since, due to their fugitive condition, they could have no access to the Wolfsbane potion which would render them harmless. All in all, it was dark news, indeed.  
  
With so much fear and suspicion, it seemed best for Remus to slip away from the castle as soon as he was able to travel. Consequently, tired and weak though he must have been, Remus left at dawn after the full moon. He left behind a short note for Harry telling him not to worry, but Harry hardly comprehended it. He could only think of Remus out there, alone, exhausted and on the run.  
  
If anyone had expected the black news to bring on a return of Harry's quiet, depressed state, they were mistaken. Instead, Harry threw himself into tricks and pranking with as much enthusiasm as before. No enclosed space could be deemed entirely safe while Harry was in it. He had mastered a few new spells from the book of heckling charms and students were now living in fear of Harry's Rhinofoliculus jinx which gave the victim instant long, wiry nose hair which made a decided whistling sound as air moved through it. So adept was Harry at sneaking up on his prey, that there was, in addition to the usual anticipation of a Hogsmeade weekend, a sense of relief that Harry would likely be too busy with his own concerns in town to be too intent on hexing nose hair.  
  
The morning of the Hogsmeade trip was bright but cold as the students lined up at the castle door, waiting to be checked off Filch's list on their way out of the school. Harry was not surprised to see a number of the faculty heading out with the students. He knew that many considered such a trip to Hogsmeade risky, but Dumbledore had explained his decision to the school only the night before at dinner.  
  
"You are all aware of the recent attacks throughout the wizarding world. While I can assure your safety within these walls, I will not resort to holding my pupils captive. Those students in third year and above who desire to visit Hogsmeade will, therefore, be allowed to go. I trust you will all keep your wits about you and will observe the rules regarding such an outing. I ask that you do not leave the boundaries of Hogsmeade and that you stay with friends as much as may be. There will be faculty and some Ministry Aurors on hand should you find yourself in any difficulty. I desire that you all enjoy yourselves, but do take care." The old man's face was somber as he finished his speech.  
  
Hermione had certainly taken the headmaster's speech to heart and it showed in her anger when Harry suggested she and Ron go ahead into Hogsmeade without him.  
  
"Harry, don't be silly! You can't go wandering about Hogsmeade on your own. How can you even consider something so reckless? Come along with Ron and me. You know we want you with us."  
  
"Hermione, I won't be alone, and you know it. The place will be crawling with Hogwarts students." He looked to Ron for support, but it was clear from the look on his friend's face that he was siding with Hermione. "Look, I promise I'll be a good little boy and stay right in the center of town. Why, you'll practically trip on me wherever you go! You two go on and enjoy the morning together and I'll catch you up at the Three Broomsticks for lunch. Alright?"  
  
Ron and Hermione had been convinced, at last, and now, as Harry passed through the gates marking the edge of Hogwarts' grounds, he saw them walking ahead, hand in hand. He watched them for a moment, but shivered as he realized how much it looked like his dreams. Pulling his cloak more tightly about himself, Harry watched the retreating backs of his friends as they walked away. Giving himself a hard shake, he started off among the groups of chattering students on the road to town.  
  
Although it was a little lonely at first, Harry soon found himself in Honeydukes' among groups of other students, laughing and sampling the many new sweets available. Just a short time later, he was in the center of a group admiring Zonko's latest offerings of the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes line. Fred and George had obviously been busy since Harry saw them at Christmas. They had added to their line of Skiving Snackboxes so that in addition to Puking Pastilles and Nosebleed Nougats there were Trembling Truffles which were guaranteed to bring on a profound case of what appeared to be feverish chills. Their newest product, however, was the Caterwauling Cushion. As Harry expected, it was a lot like a muggle whoopee cushion only instead of emitting a rude noise when sat upon, it shrieked like a banshee, it's high, piercing wail hanging in the air long after the victim, who by then would only wish to disappear entirely, had stood up again.  
  
Harry did as he had promised Hermione. He moved about among groups of his fellow students throughout the morning, going from one shop to another, buying sweets and tricks, and even a few needed supplies such as quills and potion ingredients. He was pleased to find, as the time to meet Ron and Hermione drew near, that he hadn't been as lonely as he had feared and he had managed to avoid the uncomfortable position of playing gooseberry to his best friends, as well. All in all, it was a fairly satisfied Harry who started up the main street through Hogsmeade, heading for the Three Broomsticks and a butterbeer with his friends.  
  
Harry had nearly reached the pub's doorway when a flurry of popping sounds in the street behind him signaled the arrival of a group of people by apparition. Out of curiosity, he turned and looked over his shoulder. In the middle of the street, an odd tableau had formed. Percy Weasley and two others, one wizard and one witch, whom Harry didn't recognize, stood in the middle of the open area, facing off with Kingsley Shacklebolt and two other wizards, also bearing the auror's crest on their robes. So far, none had moved since their arrival in the street. The people milling about the street had only just begun to notice and were moving quickly and eerily quietly out of range of the six poised wands. An odd sense of time slowing came over Harry as he watched the scene before him. As if of one mind, Percy and his companions, without speaking, moved so they stood, backs together, wands facing out. At a nod from Shacklebolt, the aurors moved carefully to circle the trio. The all moved so smoothly, it looked like some horrible sham dance. It was Percy's voice which broke that uncanny silence.  
  
"Move away and, perhaps, we will spare these people," he said in an odd, ringing voice. His wand twitched lightly in the general direction of the bystanders. The aurors made no answer and didn't move. "Shacklebolt," Percy cried, "you are killing these innocents."  
  
"Percy," Kingsley's voice was straining for calm and reason. "Percy, put down your wand and come away from here. Let me take you home, son. Let us take you and your friends somewhere safe."  
  
By this time, some bystanders were disappearing into nearby shops, but others, not having heard the exchange, came forward, craning their necks to see. Harry felt, more than saw or heard, Ron and Hermione arrive from behind him.  
  
"What the..." Ron's voice was filled with confusion. "Harry, what is going on? That's Percy!" Harry caught his friend's arm as Ron started to push past him into the street.  
  
"No! Ron, somehow, I don't think Percy is really here, if you know what I mean. Wait. Let the aurors talk to him," Harry urged in a whisper.  
  
Unfortunately, Percy didn't seem of a mind to cooperate. Instead of responding to his father's friend, he raised his wand over his head, shouting, "Mortis preliator subvenio!" and a sickly, greenish jet erupted from his wand tip. The jet shot straight up, higher than Harry could track it. Seconds later, the street was filled with popping sounds of apparating people and the whooshing sound of others arriving by portkey. Screams rose from the scattering crowd as the new arrivals swept along the street, their bodies and faces shrouded in black robes and hoods. There were, now, about two dozen Death Eaters spread out, firing curses into shops and at anyone trying to flee.  
  
As he, Hermione and Ron each leaped for some sort of cover, Harry could see Hogwarts faculty racing toward the melee, wands drawn. He couldn't hear what they were calling out, but he was fairly sure they were calling for adults to help fight, children to hide and students to head back to the school. As far as he could see, people were much too panicked to follow any of these instructions. Several shops were burning, now, and the bodies of the victims were littering the pavement. Harry motioned to Ron and Hermione, telegraphing his intent to move forward and help, when a fresh wave of horror swept over him.  
  
Ginny Weasley had arrived on the scene, Dean running behind her, begging for her to take cover. She raced straight toward the center of the action, screaming Percy's name.  
  
"PERCY! Percy, please, it's Ginny! Please! Stop it! Stop!"  
  
Percy turned to face his little sister, recognition, but no emotion in his eyes. Calmly aiming his wand, he fired a hex at her. Shrieking, she dodged just in time, but Percy followed. Ron, pale with fear, raced forward wordlessly. With a mighty leap, he pushed Ginny aside. A curse crackled through the air between Ron and Ginny, knocking Ginny clear and forcing Ron to the ground with a painful grunt. Percy now turned his attention on Ron and was leveling another curse when Ginny, sobbing and screaming, clambered back to Ron's prostrate form. Falling on Ron, arms and legs wrapped around her brother, holding on as if for life, Ginny gasped a shielding spell.  
  
"Protego!"  
  
The jet of orange struck the shield causing it to shimmer and vibrate but it held, Ron and Ginny huddled inside it. Harry and Hermione raced toward them, firing stunning spells at Percy as they came. Percy, seemingly unmoved, ducked their spells and, with one solemn backward glance, apparated away.  
  
Seeing Ron and Ginny stand and help each other to cover, Harry turned to survey the street. Several of the Death Eaters had not fired any spells at all, but seemed to be casing the situation and biding their time. These, Harry now hoped to surprise from behind. However, just as he began his approach, they apparently felt their moment had come. Slashing out at anyone unfortunate enough to come into their path, they showed themselves for what they were - not Death Eaters, but soul-imposed werewolves. Yelling a warning over his shoulder to Ron and Hermione, Harry rushed forward, the stunning spell forming on his lips. One of the soul-imposed turned to face him and Harry found himself nearly toe to toe with Cho Chang. He hesitated just a split second and as her arm swung out to strike him, he felt the chilling rush of a lapse sweep over him.  
  
Visions of Dumbledore, collapsed on the stone floor of the corridor outside his office flashed through Harry's mind. Next were brief glimpses of Snape's trademark sneer and Annwyl's distant smile. More images of the unconscious Dumbledore and a flash showing Remus fleeing through a dark forest and Harry felt a cold wave, his knees buckling. He dropped, the expectation of Cho's blow flitting through his brain, and lost consciousness.  
  
***  
  
Harry felt himself bobbing along as if riding on a boat or a bubble. The sensation made his eyes pop open and he struggled a bit, trying to get his feet under himself. He did manage a more or less vertical attitude, but found he was unable to actually set his feet on the ground. He realized, with a weak sort of giggle, that he was floating along behind Hermione and Ron and that he must be making a quite bizarre picture, thrashing and hovering roughly a half meter above the path. His flailing and grunts caught Hermione's attention and she let out a soft cry.  
  
"Harry! Oh, thank goodness. Here, hold still now and I'll try to let you down gently." Her brows knit in concentration and she lowered Harry from his odd perch. He landed on his feet, but soon found his knees weren't much use and sank all the way to the ground. In the distance, they could hear odd yelling and whooshing sounds.  
  
"You collapsed and we figured we'd better get you well away from the fighting," Ron said, seeing the look of confusion on Harry's face. "We had no idea how long you might be out, so Hermione used Mobilicorpus to get you out of there quickly. You've only been out a couple of minutes though. Can you stand? We really ought to keep moving."  
  
Harry nodded, a little dazed. "I think I can. Can you give me a hand?" He rose shakily, one arm gripping Ron's left shoulder, the other draped across Hermione's shorter frame. With support on either side, he was able to move along fairly well.  
  
"Let's get you up to the castle. We'll explain then," Hermione said. "We don't want anyone asking any questions about why you were out cold. It was another lapse, wasn't it?" Harry nodded. "We thought it must be since we didn't see any spell hit you."  
  
"Where is everyone?" Harry whispered hoarsely.  
  
"Shh. The Ministry sent reinforcements and the professors were taking every student they could find up to the castle. Dean found us and went ahead with Ginny. I saw Neville carrying Luna. She looked hurt." Hermione's face crinkled with worry.  
  
Harry allowed himself to be swept along the path leading toward the castle, his brain buzzing with questions. He didn't seem to be injured, but his last memory was of Cho preparing to strike him. What had happened? Where was she now? Though he was anxious to know what was going on, Harry realized he hadn't the strength to talk about it too much just yet. Also, he could feel the tense urgency in his friends to be up at the castle again. So, he held his tongue and concentrated on staying on his feet.  
  
They made it to the castle, at last, only to find pandemonium in the Entrance Hall. Students were running up and down the main staircase, many crying. Filch was nowhere to be seen, though Mrs. Norris prowled the edges of the room, her scruffy fur and tail on end, eyes even wider than usual. Fortunately, there was so much chaos, no one paid much attention to Ron, Harry and Hermione as they arduously made their way to Gryffindor tower.  
  
Once safely through the portrait hole, Hermione and Ron helped Harry up the stairs into his dorm room and over to his bed. By this time, Harry was so exhausted, he could hardly carry any of his own weight. He dropped into his four-poster like a sack of cement.  
  
"Harry, not that I think you have much choice just now," said Hermione, pulling a comforter over him as Ron removed his trainers, "but I want you to stay in Gryffindor tower until we come back for you. Let us find out what is going on, okay?"  
  
Harry nodded, then added weakly, "Check on Dumbledore, something's not right there. Check the hall outside his office." His eyes drooped shut as Ron and Hermione, exchanging worried glances, hurried from the room.  
  
***  
  
When Harry opened his eyes again, it took a moment to remember where he was and how he got there. His first confusion was finding everything clear to his view when he awoke. Apparently, he had been so drained he had fallen asleep with his glasses on. This fact explained the odd pain over his left ear where the frames were perched at a funny angle. Adjusting them back onto his nose, Harry cautiously sat up and looked around. His head felt a little funny, as if it had been packed with cotton wool for a while, but otherwise, he seemed to be alright. Sun was streaming in through the western window of the room, telling him he had been sleeping at least three hours. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and rose slowly.  
  
Getting downstairs into the common room was a little bit of a challenge. Harry found his knees to still be rather weak and the long spiral stairway a little dizzying. He made it, however, without mishap and dropped into a chair by the fire. The room was empty, so he figured it must be dinnertime. Harry decided he was, by no means, hungry enough to try to get to the Great Hall on his own. The promise he had given to Hermione to wait for them was proving to be an easy one to keep. After a half hour or so had passed, however, Harry began to rethink that idea. He knew nothing of what had happened in Hogsmeade after the first few moments of the fighting and still didn't know how he hadn't been struck by Cho just before he blacked out. Harry had just reached the point of some nervous, albeit shaky, pacing when Ron and Hermione climbed through the portrait hole.  
  
"What happened?" Harry asked anxiously, not wasting breath on preliminaries.  
  
Ron frowned and sat down on a cushion on the hearth rug. Hermione sat on the chair behind him, her hand gripping his shoulder as if to reassure herself he was really there. Her face was blank and pale.  
  
"Sit down, mate," Ron advised. "You aren't going to like any of this." Harry sat slowly, his eyes never leaving his friend's face. "You were right about Dumbledore, Harry. When everyone started running back to the castle, McGonagall sent some sort of message ahead to warn Dumbledore. When he didn't answer by the time she got here, she sent Dobby to find him. He was out cold on the floor in front of the gargoyle." Ron paused and looked up at Harry. "Did you see that in your lapse?" Harry nodded, closing his eyes.  
  
"Dobby took him straight to Madame Pomfrey, but we haven't heard how he is," said Hermione, rousing herself a bit. "The hospital ward is sort of a mess right now."  
  
"Were there a lot of injuries?" Harry asked, his stomach twisting uncomfortably.  
  
"Yes, Harry. I'm afraid there were," Hermione answered sadly. "More than injuries, too." A tear ran down her cheek as she spoke and Harry's throat constricted. "Madame Pomfrey wasn't able to help everyone."  
  
"Who?"  
  
Ron reached over his shoulder and took Hermione's hand. She was crying, now, leaning forward, her head resting on Ron's shoulder. He stroked her hair and looked over at Harry.  
  
"Dennis Creevey. Terry Boot. Mandy Brocklehurst." Ron sighed. "They were killed by blasts in the shops in town. Professor Sinistra was dueling with a Death Eater and was hit with a killing curse. Susan Bones was attacked by a soul-imposed because she was trying to shield one of the injured shop keepers I'm afraid there wasn't much anyone could do for her. Justin Finch-Fletchley was stunned but Ernie MacMillan was able to get him away. They'll both be alright once their cuts and bruises heal. Neville was cut by some flying glass, but Luna took most of it. She jumped in front of a few nasty hexes that would have caught him otherwise. He carried her back here himself and is still in the hospital ward. He won't leave her at all. We don't know how she is, but word is, she'll be alright. There were loads of other injuries that weren't as bad."  
  
Hermione lifted her head, her eyes red and puffy. "A lot of people were hurt in town, too. So many just lying there in the street..." Her voice quavered and she closed her eyes.  
  
Harry didn't speak. His mind was spinning but he just couldn't seem to grasp what his friends were telling him. Four students and a professor. Gone. He sat silently, trying to absorb the information, but his mind refused to accept it. He simply sat, limp, shaking his head in disbelief. Slowly, like ice creeping through Harry's veins, he grew cold with pain and anger. So many had been lost. So many lives had been torn apart. So many more losses would come in the days and months, perhaps years, ahead.  
  
It was horrible to think of the students, still too young and inexperienced, facing the onslaught of Death Eaters marching through Hogsmeade. And now, five of the students were gone. They'd never have the chance to grow up, to learn to defend themselves. It was all too late. Why had Dumbledore allowed it? Surely, he knew of the terrible risks. He had even sent professors into town to watch over his charges. Yet, where had he been? Harry felt a knot forming in his stomach. When Dennis, Terry, Mandy and Susan needed him, where had he been? Had he watched out his office window as they all left for town with the same impassive look Harry had seen in his vision? Had he watched them go to their deaths as calmly as he watched Sirius fall through the veil?  
  
"Harry?" Ron's voice was tight and urgent. "Harry! C'mon, mate. Answer me. Didn't you hear me talking to you?"  
  
Harry raised his head and leveled a hard, blank stare at his friend. "Sorry, Ron," he said stiffly, "I guess I was thinking."  
  
"We want to know what you're thinking," Hermione spoke, looking at him nervously. "You haven't said a word."  
  
"What do you want me to say, Hermione? That it is too bad? That it'll be a real shame to have to find a new chaser now that Dennis is gone?"  
  
Hermione's mouth hung open in an astonished O. Ron shifted and started to rise.  
  
"Now, hang on, Harry..."  
  
"No, Ron! No! Just what do you two want from me? How does anyone respond to this?" Harry rose, his face white with anger, fists clenched at his sides. His jaw was clenched shut against the shaking of his body. "Do you really want to know what I think? Do you? I want to know why, in bloody hell, Dumbledore ever sent a group of children into Hogsmeade when he knew how dangerous it was! I want to know why he didn't stop this! What the hell did he think he was doing?" Harry ended in a hoarse shout.  
  
"You can't mean that, Harry," Hermione said in a small voice. "You know he would never -"  
  
"How do we know he would never?" thundered Harry. "It isn't as if he ever explains anything. Of course, though, you and Ron are going to back him all the way, right? All hail the almighty Albus Dumbledore, right? And whatever you do, try to keep that Potter boy from disturbing the hero worship. Right? RIGHT?"  
  
Hermione was crying again and Ron had risen to his feet, his face flushed beet red. He stood toe to toe with Harry.  
  
"Look, Harry. I know this whole thing is a shock and you're weak from that weird lapse you had. But I think you're letting it make you queer in the head, mate." Ron's voice was calm but there was a coldness in his tone Harry could not ignore. "You want to take it easy, before you say something you'll regret later."  
  
"What will I regret later, Ron? That I dared to question what he let happen today? That I challenged the two of you to think for yourselves instead of blindly following that old man?"  
  
By now, Hermione was on her feet as well. Ron's face went from flushed to pale in the blink of an eye. Slowly, he lifted his arm and draped it around Hermione's shoulders.  
  
"Harry, I never thought I'd say something like this to you, of all people." He squared his shoulders and tightened his grip on Hermione. "I think this is where we part company, Harry. I don't know if you mean what you are saying or not. I don't know what's going on with you lately and you've certainly made it clear that you don't want any help from your friends. You know how we feel about you Harry, but I won't let you take out your problems on Hermione anymore. And," he swallowed hard, "I won't let you take it out on me, either." Gently, Ron turned away and, his arm still on Hermione's shoulders, guided her back to the portrait hole and out of Gryffindor tower. 


	15. Cut Adrift

Disclaimer: Please see previous chapters.  
  
Author's Notes: Many thanks, as always, to Moriah S. for beta-ing this mammoth fic. Many thanks, as well, to my reviewers. Your imput helps me improve the story and my writing. I am grateful. If all continues as I plan, there should be just three more chapters after this. Hope you enjoy!  
  
HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND  
  
Chapter 15 - Cut Adrift  
  
Harry watched the Fat Lady's portrait close behind his two best friends with little more than a growl of frustration. "Ron, you bloody well brought this on yourself," he muttered angrily, throwing himself into an armchair. He slumped into the chair, head thrown back, eyes closed. He didn't know how long he sat like that but he didn't open his eyes, even when he heard the sounds of other Gryffindors returning to the common room. Probably thinking he was sleeping, no one spoke to him. Indeed, there was little conversation at all, and what there was, was quiet murmurs Harry couldn't make out.  
  
The murmuring continued and Harry simply sat, eyes closed, trying to sort through everything that had happened. It hardly seemed possible that it was still the same day in which they had all set out in the mid-March sunshine for Hogsmeade. He thought of Zonko's crowded little shop, the sound of chattering students nearly drowning the merry voice of Zonko, himself, as he waited on one student after another. Harry knew from experience that Zonko knew his young clientele by name and remembered their favorite purchases from one visit to the next. It was a matter of great relief to all students that, while Zonko knew all about their pranking habits, he was the very soul of discretion and never shared that information with any Hogwarts faculty or staff.  
  
He thought of Honeydukes, which was practically a point of pilgrimage for any Hogsmeade visit. He thought back on the number of chocolate frogs and bags of Everyflavor Beans he had purchased from the elderly Mr. and Mrs. Honeyduke. Then, of course, there was the Three Broomsticks. Madam Rosemerta could be a little sharp with her boisterous student patrons, but she was still looked upon as a favorite among them all for she was seldom without a supply of new humorous stories and jokes which she passed along to them all.  
  
Harry wondered how much damage had actually been done in the village before the aurors had been able to restore order. He knew from what he'd seen that there had been considerable damage to the buildings near the spot where Percy had been confronted. From what Ron and Hermione had said, there must have been a great deal more damage he hadn't seen. He could remember hearing screaming coming from behind him as he faced Cho. That would mean something had happened at The Three Broomsticks. If the Death Eaters had been aiming for the more crowded shops, as was likely in such a twisted attack, the joke shop, candy store and book store would not have fared well, either. Several more students entered the common room and sat on a couch near Harry. Their conversation was audible to him and he recognized the voices of several third years, though he couldn't, at that moment, remember their names.  
  
"...it was pretty bad. I heard she never made it out of the building," one whispered.  
  
"Yeah. But she did get nearly everyone out of the pub before the roof fell in," added another.  
  
"At least, they were able to run. The people in Zonko's never had a chance," a third voice added. The three sat silently a moment and the third voice went on. "I wonder if anyone will rebuild Zonko's and Honeydukes."  
  
Harry slumped lower in his chair. Obviously, the damage done was far more extensive than Ron and Hermione had gotten around to telling him. He squeezed his eyes shut more tightly against their hot prickle, willing himself to control his shuddering and ragged breathing. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to run out the portrait hole and keep running. Harry thought of his Firebolt upstairs in his dorm. He could go out the window and no one would know. By the time they realized he was missing, he'd be far enough to keep from being found. His muscles tensed and he straightened slightly in his chair. His mind was buzzing. He could just run... But in the next second, the thought fled his mind as he heard a new voice enter the common room. Hermione was calling to him. He sat up fully, opening his eyes at last.  
  
"Harry, please. Can I speak with you?" She stood before him holding a dinner plate, covered with a napkin. "I've brought you some dinner. Dobby insisted when you didn't come to the Hall. Let's go over to the window seat."  
  
Harry grimaced and stood beside her. "Did Ron put you up to this?"  
  
"No. He's in McGonagall's office with Ginny. They are talking with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley by floo. I imagine the whole family is pretty upset. Percy might have really hurt Ron and Ginny today." Hermione's eyes filled as she sat down on the window seat with Harry. "He's really upset about everything, Harry. That's why I wanted to talk to you. About what he said to you..."  
  
"Wait, Hermione. Before you even start, just stop and think about what he said. First you two asked me what I was thinking. I told you, but Ron couldn't take it. I don't regret what I said. I meant every word." Harry's face darkened and he stared down at the untouched plate Hermione had brought. "If he can't stand to hear what I think, he shouldn't ask."  
  
"I know, Harry. I know," she answered placatingly. "But try to see it from Ron's point of view. He was just attacked. By his brother. His brother, Harry." She gave him a piercing look. "How would you feel if Ron suddenly started casting curses at you?"  
  
Harry turned away to the window. He couldn't help wondering what Hermione thought Ron had done, walking away like that. "I think I'd feel like my best friend turned on me," he muttered bitterly.  
  
"Oh, Harry. He hasn't turned on you. Please, try to understand. Ron is so upset. He's taken all of this with Percy so well for so long. I think today was just too much. No matter what trouble it looked like Percy had gotten himself into, I guess Ron always believed that somehow, Percy would still come back to us. Escape whatever was influencing him that way." She sighed deeply. "What happened today has killed that hope, I think."  
  
Harry toyed with the food, not wanting to answer. Ron probably was upset. He had good reason to be. Harry had the uncomfortable feeling that Hermione was about to ask him to apologize to Ron. He was not at all sure he was able to do that, even though he was beginning to feel, deep down, he should. Something in him was still raw and smarting, protesting that an apology was owed him, not the other way round. He gave a deep sigh which was nearly a groan.  
  
"There has been so much death. So much pain, Hermione." He didn't look at her. His voice was so low she strained to hear. "So much. Much too much. It hurts so many... hurts so much..."  
  
Harry was so lost in the dull ache; he hardly noticed when Hermione scooted close, her hand on his shoulder, her forehead resting on her hand. "Oh Harry, I know. It has been so awful... I know. Just please, please say something, anything to Ron. He is as miserable as you are about this, right now, I think. Please." Harry didn't answer and they sat in silence, looking out the window but seeing nothing.  
  
Harry and Hermione hardly registered the sound of other people entering the room behind them but the silence of their place at the window was broken by the arrival of Ginny Weasley. She approached Hermione with a sad, forced sort of smile. "Ron is taking a bit of a walk. He promised he'd stay in the castle and wanted me to ask you to meet him outside the library in half an hour." She said nothing to Harry, but did turn one brief, sad glance toward him. Unsure what such a look meant, Harry didn't speak.  
  
"Thanks, Ginny. How are your parents?" Hermione pushed Harry farther along the window seat, making a space on her other side for Ginny. "Has there been any word?"  
  
"They're terribly upset," Ginny answered flatly. "Dad has already been meeting with the Order so he heard all about it from Kingsley Shacklebolt. He still insists that Percy must be under Imperius or something and that once the Order finds him, he can be brought back to his senses. Mum just keeps crying."  
  
Hermione gave the pale girl beside her a squeeze. "Ginny, I really think you should try to rest. Dean has been looking for you but I haven't seen him come back into the common room yet. Why don't you leave him a note and go upstairs? I'm going to go find Ron." She rose, drawing Ginny to her feet as well. Turning to look at Harry, she asked, "Coming, Harry? I think now would be a good time."  
  
Harry shook his head. "I can't do that Hermione." He turned away, avoiding the reproach in her eyes.  
  
"Please, Harry. Ron needs you now," Hermione begged.  
  
"Stop it, Hermione!" Ginny's voice was exasperated. "Ron told me Harry was being stupid. You know there's no reasoning with either of them. Just stop it!" She grabbed Harry's shoulder, pulling him around to face her. "And you! You of all people should know how important it is to stand together now. And look at yourself! Moping here like a kicked puppy because Ron isn't begging you to be friends." Her voice was growing steadily louder and the other Gryffindors were turning to stare as her words flayed Harry. "Ron said something brainless, no doubt, but I think he has ample excuse just now. Merlin knows, you've done more then your share of asinine things lately. You ought to be able to understand."  
  
Harry could feel the heat in his cheeks as he rose from his seat. Why was it that every conversation he had with this girl recently had him furious and smarting from her whip-like tongue? He opened his mouth in protest, but Ginny's voice slashed on, unrelenting.  
  
"Harry, when are you going to get it through your thick head that it isn't all about the Boy Who Bloody Lived? Voldemort may be after you, but he's not minding ruining a few other lives along the way, now is he?" She stopped, her face crimson in anger, her chest heaving. Around them, classmates looked on in horrified fascination, though many had paled visibly at Ginny's use of the Dark Lord's name. Harry, too, had gone quite ashen, though for different reason.  
  
"Say it, Ginny," Harry ground out, his voice tense and low. "Go ahead and tell me what you think of me. You're dying to, aren't you? Say it. Say it all."  
  
"No! Harry, you don't mean... Ginny, please. Both of you, this won't help," Hermione quavered, trying to step between them. Harry took her arm and gently drew her back out of the way. His eyes never left Ginny's face.  
  
Ginny stood speechless a moment, her eyes flicking around at the gathered crowd as if seeing them for the first time. Squaring her shoulders, she met Harry's gaze. "You want to know what I really think of you, Harry Potter? Do you? I...I think you are..." Her strong pose crumbled suddenly, her voice breaking in a strangled sob. Turning, she plunged through the bystanders and raced up the stairs toward the girls' dormitories. Seconds later, the heavy slam of a door was heard.  
  
***  
  
Breakfast in the Great Hall the next morning was a silent affair. The house banners were all draped in black crepe. On either side of the great school crest behind the staff table hung pictures of the four students and the Professor lost in yesterday's attack. It seemed somehow particularly horrible to Harry, who sat alone near the end of the Gryffindor table, that the enchanted ceiling should be displaying the lovely, gentle sunshine of early spring. At such a time, the beauty seemed actually insulting. Hermione sat with Ron farther along the table and though she signaled hopefully, Harry could not bring himself to join them. He did, however, go so far as to nod in neutral sort of greeting to Ron as he sat down beside Hermione. Ron stared a moment but after a slight nudge from her, he returned the nod with equal gravity. Ginny sat apart from everyone at the opposite end of the table and Dean, Harry noticed, was making a poor pretense of eating with Seamus and Neville, opposite Harry. The headmaster was nowhere to be seen.  
  
When most people had done breakfast, Professor McGonagall rose from her place at the staff table. She looked pale and tired, as if she hadn't slept much, if at all, the previous night. However, her expression was resolute.  
  
"May I have your attention, please." She paused for a moment, allowing the scattered murmurs to fade away. "I know that many of you are anxious for tidings of friends injured in yesterday's attack in Hogsmeade. Although Madame Pomfrey is allowing no visitors to any of her patients at this time, she wishes me to inform you all that your classmates and Hogsmeade acquaintances are recuperating as well as can be hoped. She expects full recoveries for all her patients." The deputy headmistress cleared her throat and Harry was amazed to see her make a surreptitious swipe at her eyes before continuing. "However, I know you are aware that not all involved in yesterday's deplorable events were so fortunate. We mourn the loss of our friends and it is our intention to honor them this evening. You are all encouraged to join us here in the Hall at 7:30 p.m. for a memorial service for Terry Boot, Mandy Brocklehurst, Susan Bones, Dennis Creevey and Professor Sinistra. In light of all that has taken place, I urge you all to make use of this time to console one another and to share fond memories of those we have lost." With many in the room now crying openly, Professor McGonagall took a shaky breath and departed the Hall.  
  
Students rose quietly and left in twos and threes. Soon, Harry was nearly alone at his end of the Gryffindor table. Ron and Hermione had departed, Hermione looking pleadingly over her shoulder at Harry. He tried to give her an encouraging smile but would not rise to follow them. When he felt certain they would be out of sight, Harry left the Hall alone. He had no clear picture of where to go or what he could do to spend his time. Somehow, sitting up in the common room or worse, the library, studying, seemed a bit heartless. Finally, he settled on a walk around the quidditch pitch and set off out the large front doors. He wasn't out of sight of the buildings when Annwyl King joined him from a pathway leading up from the greenhouses.  
  
"Harry, I'm glad I ran into you," she began as she fell into step beside him. "I'm sure it is the last thing you want to think about just now, but it could be important. What did you see during your lapse yesterday?" Harry looked sharply at her, but she answered the question before he could ask. "I knew because I saw Ron and Hermione bringing you back into the castle. You didn't seem to have an injury but you were looking somewhat the worse for wear, just the same."  
  
"Well, yeah. I did have another lapse," Harry admitted. "It happened in Hogsmeade in the middle of the fight." He sighed in disgust. "Not very helpful to be falling on my face just then."  
  
"Well?" Annwyl asked impatiently. "What did you see?"  
  
Harry thought carefully for a moment. He wasn't at all sure it would be wise to tell the woman too much of what he was seeing. How much could he really trust to her? Finally, he opted for partial truth. "I saw Professor Dumbledore collapsed outside his office. Er... that was about it."  
  
Annwyl stared at him intently for a moment. "Well, if that's all...I'm afraid it isn't of much use. We had located him before you even returned to the castle." She walked along deep in thought. "Isn't there anything else you can tell me, Harry?"  
  
Harry shook his head and looked away. They had reached the quidditch pitch and Harry was hoping that Annwyl would leave him to a solitary walk. The last thing he wanted at this point was further conversation about yesterday with anyone, especially someone he couldn't wholly trust. Annwyl stood on the edge of the pitch a moment, watching Harry. Finally, she nodded, as if deciding something.  
  
"Alright, Harry. But, please, if you see anything you think we could use, do tell someone. Remember, we need all the information we can get." She turned and walked slowly back toward the castle.  
  
Harry spent much of the day wandering the grounds. Many of the other students were doing the same, but with so much space to wander, it was no matter of difficulty to steer clear of others. He didn't return to the castle until late afternoon. Then, he headed directly for Gryffindor tower, intending to get away to his room and behind the hangings on his own bed. There, he could be sure of relative privacy without any risk of any further conversation with Annwyl. The common room was dotted with knots of students talking quietly but they took no notice of Harry as he passed through the room, and he stopped to speak to no one. He was relieved to find his dorm empty. Harry had feared any close confinement with Ron just yet. True, they had exchanged civil, if not friendly, acknowledgement of one another at breakfast that morning, but conversation would be too uncomfortable and silence was likely to be much worse. With a weary sigh, Harry dropped onto his bed and drew the hangings tightly shut. Clearing his mind as well as he could, he surrendered himself to sleep.  
  
***  
  
From the size of the group collected in the Great Hall that evening, it appeared that the whole school had come to honor their fallen friends and their Professor. The great house tables had been removed and rows of chairs had taken their places. On the raised platform where the staff table generally stood, a small podium and several chairs were placed, facing the rows of chairs. Harry took a seat at the end of a row some way toward the back, among some of his Gryffindor classmates. He was surprised to see Dean sitting with Seamus. Ginny was not with them. To his even greater surprise, Hermione filed into the row behind his and led Ron to the two seats directly back of Harry's. Ron made no protest but greeted Harry with another nod as he had that morning. Noting Hermione's pleading eyes, Harry returned the nod with a quiet, "'Lo Hermione, Ron." Hermione's expression lifted and Ron was nearly surprised into a response. After a second's uncomfortable pause, he nodded again and looked away. Harry sighed and stared steadfastly forward.  
  
Though the Hall was filled, there was little noise and even that shut off abruptly as several figures in formal dress robes filed up to the podium and the facing chairs. Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Professor Sprout, and Professor Snape were seated on either side of the podium. The fifth chair directly behind the podium was taken by a very frail looking Albus Dumbledore. Harry could see that the headmaster was still far from well. The lined old face was gray and slack. The blue eyes were faded and shadowed. He looked thinner, smaller, somehow. Harry's stomach twisted as he watched Professor Dumbledore rise and come to the podium. It was a painful sight, causing an actual physical reaction in Harry and for a brief moment, he wondered if he'd have to make a run for the door to avoid being sick right where he sat. Swallowing hard and taking a few deep breaths helped the nausea recede somewhat, though his hands and face felt clammy and he shook a little as if with chill. With an effort, he concentrated on what Dumbledore was saying.  
  
"We come together this evening to honor our own and to celebrate their lives among us. Though we suffer deeply from their loss, perhaps even more particularly for the terrible way in which they were taken from us, we give thanks that we had the privilege to serve and study with them and to call them friends. Tonight, we express our gratitude for the lives of Susan Bones, Terry Boot, Mandy Brocklehurst, Dennis Creevey and Josefina Sinistra. May we remember them well and fondly and never cease to honor their lives and their deaths with the very best that is in each of us."  
  
The heads of each house then rose and spoke about their students, telling of their interests, their skills and praising those qualities by which they were credits to their houses and to their school. Harry couldn't help the unpleasant realization that Professor Snape was the only one who did not have to rise and speak. The suspicions which accompanied that realization were particularly unpleasant. Last, Professor Dumbledore rose again and spoke about Professor Sinistra - her achievements, her dedication and her affection for her students and her colleagues.  
  
There followed, a procession of students and family members to the podium to speak, in tear choked voices of their lost loved ones and friends. The twist in Harry's stomach grew tighter with each speech. At last, he dragged his gaze from the podium and looked around the room in an attempt to regain control of the nausea which threatened him. Then, he noticed Draco Malfoy standing against the back wall near the large double doors. His face was drawn into the classic ferret sneer, his arms folded across his chest. Harry stared at the blonde boy with loathing and when Draco pushed away from the wall and slipped out the door, Harry was drawn by impulse to follow him out. Ignoring the questions in Hermione's and even Ron's eyes, he hurried along the side wall to the rear and out the door after Malfoy.  
  
Once in the Entrance Hall, Harry saw Malfoy's shadow disappearing along the corridor leading to the dungeon stairs. Moving as quietly as he could, Harry followed. He assumed that Malfoy was, as yet, unaware he was being followed for he made no effort to move quietly. Harry could hear his footsteps plainly on the stone staircase. So, Harry dropped back to be sure he would be hidden by shadows and followed by hearing. Remembering back to his second year when he and Ron had taken Polyjuice potion to pass as Crabbe and Goyle, Harry thought he remembered the turnings which would take them to the entrance of the Slytherin common room. Expecting his quarry would be heading there, Harry began to question himself. What could he hope to gain by following Draco Malfoy? He could remember the way to the Slytherin dorms, so he didn't need to follow Malfoy for that. They were approaching the short hallway which would take them to the Slytherin entrance and Harry had nearly turned around to head back the way he had come when he realized that Draco had walked on past the turning. Additionally, the boy was now moving more stealthily, his feet making little noise along the corridor. Harry drew slightly closer and followed along.  
  
As they moved deeper into the dungeons, the lamps on the walls gave way to rough torches, widely spaced and giving a flickering orange light. They soon passed the corridor which would lead to Remus' hideaway and then, Harry was beyond his knowledge of the maze of corridors which crisscrossed the dungeons. He began to worry about finding his way out when the slight sounds of Malfoy's feet stopped. Harry instantly halted as well and, peering through the dim light as well as he could, tried to see where his quarry might have gone. The corridor was long and wide but had no niches or intersecting hallways that Harry could see. Moving forward carefully, Harry scanned the walls for any signs of a door that Draco might have used but found nothing. After about ten meters, the corridor stopped in a dead end, still with no signs of an opening anywhere. Clearly, Draco knew of a secret passage, but though Harry could picture the Marauder's Map quite well, he couldn't recall any passages this low in the dungeons. Realizing it was dangerous to risk being caught lurking around the dungeons, Harry turned and made his way back and into the Entrance Hall.  
  
Upon reaching it, Harry found the memorial service had ended and most students were already gone from the Great Hall. He was just climbing the first staircase when a voice hailed him.  
  
"Harry, have you got a moment?" Dean Thomas was jogging up the stairs toward Harry. "I'd like to have a word with you if you don't mind."  
  
"Er... okay. C'mon, maybe we can find a couple of chairs by the fire."  
  
"No, I'd rather we find somewhere more private," Dean replied. "Look, the classrooms are empty. That'll do." He turned into the first room he came to and lit several candles with his wand. Harry followed, feeling rather confused. "Close the door, would you, Harry?"  
  
Once seated at a couple of facing desks in the closed room, Dean seemed reluctant to begin whatever it was he had been so anxious to tell Harry. Harry squirmed a little, expecting some sort of dressing down over his row with Ginny the night before. He liked Dean and hadn't been upset, as Ron had, over seeing him with Ginny and he really didn't want to have to have any sort of angry discussion about his dorm mate's girlfriend.  
  
"Harry," Dean began at last, "you know that I'm not the kind to interfere with another bloke's problems, yeah? I mean, I know you and Ginny haven't been getting along lately, but I sort of figured that it was between you two. I've never had any problem with you, and I didn't want to stick my nose in where it wasn't wanted." He paused, looking more uncomfortable than ever.  
  
"You're right, Dean." Harry said quietly. "Ginny and I haven't been getting along all that well and, frankly, I appreciate your not interfering. There isn't anything you could do anyway. But, what is it you needed to talk to me about, then?"  
  
"Well, you see, er... It's only that Ginny has broken up with me, Harry. She's really upset over Percy and everything, and she says she just doesn't want to be with anyone right now." Dean scrubbed his eyes with his hand, tiredly. "I reckon it is for the best. I like Ginny a lot, but I don't understand her. She's hurting, anyone can see that, and I want to help. But I just can't get near her. I'm beginning to think that I never could. That's not a situation that either of us need. Especially now when Ginny needs someone to talk to. So, as I said, it is probably for the best."  
  
"Erm... I'm really sorry to hear that, Dean..." Harry began, perplexed.  
  
"No, wait. That isn't what I needed to tell you," Dean interrupted. "When Ginny and I were talking, well, and really for a while now even before we talked, I got the impression that aside from hurting over Percy, she's just really, really angry. And here's the thing, Harry. I think she's really angry at you."  
  
"Me?" Harry sighed deeply. "Well, that isn't really news, Dean. I mean, nearly everyone in Gryffindor heard us fighting last night."  
  
"It's more than that, mate. I got the impression as she was talking about Percy and Ron and all that, well, she blames you. Somehow, I think she is blaming you for Percy and the mess he's in." Harry's shoulders slumped and he looked up at Dean with a pained expression. "I know it's crazy sounding, Harry, but I thought you should know." 


	16. Lost In the Maze

Disclaimer: see previous chapters  
  
Author's notes: I can't apologize enough for the delay in this chapter. Real life can be such a pain sometimes, can't it? Thanks, as always, to my beta, Moriah S. Also, my thanks to Maegunn Batt and Greenfairy for all sorts of Slytherin-y suggestions. I will make a final decision about remaining chapters while writing chapter 17, but at this time, it looks like we have two more to go! Please leave a review and tell me your thoughts on the story. Many thanks!  
  
HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND  
  
Chapter 16 - Lost In the Maze  
  
It seemed to Harry that life had come to some horrible, painful precipice. However, rather than turning back or even going over, he felt they remained balanced on the edge, their lives becoming a twisted high wire performance in a circus of Voldemort's dark, perverse devising.  
  
Classes began again and Dumbledore resumed his duties as headmaster the day after the memorial service. He was weak and sick looking, but the students and certainly, the faculty, seemed to draw consolation from the old face seated at the head table. Harry thought he must be the only one not reassured until he noticed the intense expressions on the faces of both Professor Snape and Annwyl. Instinct made him turn to look for Malfoy at the Slytherin table. Though the pale, sharp features were calm, the grey eyes darted with nervous frequency toward the head table. Harry watched Malfoy throughout breakfast that morning but saw nothing which enlightened him in any way.  
  
Among the students, there seemed to be an uneasy, unspoken agreement of silence on the subject of the Hogsmeade disaster. For several days after classes resumed, The Daily Prophet ran front page stories regarding the attack, the aurors involved, the victims, their families, and the efforts to rebuild and return to some semblance of routine in the village. Although many of the students subscribed to the paper, there was none of the discussion of the subject that one might have expected. It was as if they had, as one, opted to bury their grief in small talk or no talk at all.  
  
The only lasting, outward reminders a week later was the indefinite postponement of Quidditch and the increase of dueling club meetings. Dumbledore had explained this move four days after the attack.  
  
"A dark road lies before us," he said, addressing the school at dinner that evening. "The way is strewn with obstacles. Prior to the horrific events of this past week, I desired we all maintain as much of our pleasing way of life as seemed practicable." The ancient blue eyes clouded and Dumbledore's shoulders sagged slightly. "I fear I have erred most grievously. As much as I would like to protect your youth, I cannot risk your future by so doing. Therefore, I am suspending inter-house competitions, including Quidditch for the remainder of term. The time and energy once devoted to these activities will be given to the dueling club which will meet three evenings each week. You must all prepare to defend yourselves as well as you can, though the thought saddens me greatly."  
  
At any other time, such an announcement would have caused an outcry among the students, but in their benumbed state, the school submitted without comment. In a way, Harry was pleased to have more opportunity to learn defensive spells of all types. Still, deep down, he couldn't help a feeling of frustration. Their training was in the hands of Snape and Annwyl and the two clearly didn't intend to cooperate. Snape was certainly skilled in defense, but his manner was so irritable, learning was difficult for many students. Annwyl, while a more effective trainer, was not, in Harry's mind, trustworthy. They had, at least, continued the dueling in groups, but with stricter guidelines and tighter supervision. Harry knew that this was nothing like having to actually fight for one's life, but it was better than traditional magical dueling techniques.  
  
So, it came about that after a couple of weeks of the new routine, Harry found himself staring out the window of Gryffindor tower which overlooked the Quidditch pitch. He was particularly restless that evening. Another full moon had come but Remus had sent word via an Order owl that his work carried him too far to return to Hogwarts at that time. The note did nothing to ease Harry's worry over Remus for it only made him wonder what sort of work could take Remus far enough away that he couldn't simply apparate back. His restlessness increased to irritability when Ron and Hermione entered the common room and settled at a nearby table with their books. Hermione was still trying to ease relations between Ron and Harry, but with mixed success. The two boys did speak on occasion now, but never more than necessary sentences and basic civility. Somehow, Hermione was able to take that as encouragement and pressed on at every opportunity. This evening, she had invited Harry to join them to study. A quick glance at the discomfort on Ron's face made Harry decline with what courtesy he could muster.  
  
The need to clear his head drove Harry from the window and up to his dorm. Grabbing his Firebolt, he jogged back down the stairs and straight through the common room, ignoring the curious stares of his classmates. His pace never slackened until he had reached the Quidditch pitch. He estimated he had nearly an hour of light left and he intended to make the most of it. Kicking off from the springy turf, Harry relished the familiar sense of weight being stripped from him as he soared up to the goal posts on one end of the pitch. Bending low over his broomstick, he shot forward, zooming around the stadium faster and faster until he could hardly keep his eyes open against the force of his speed. Then, Harry tried every acrobatic trick he'd ever seen in books and at the Quidditch World Cup. He flowed through climbs, dives and rolls in an endless chain. At last, when the light had faded too much for safe stunt flying, Harry landed at the edge of the pitch, out of breath, but feeling more in control than he had in days.  
  
Thereafter, any evening that the dueling club didn't meet, Harry headed straight for the pitch, Firebolt in hand and flew until it grew dark. The first four evenings, he was alone in the stadium, but on the fifth evening, he had flown only three laps around the pitch when he saw a lone figure on the ground, broom in hand and a quaffle under one arm, staring up at him. It was Ron. Harry hovered for a moment, uncertain, then dipped down a few feet above the redhead.  
  
"Well," Harry said gruffly, "are you coming or what?" Ron only nodded in reply. Harry wheeled around and headed upward. When he turned back, Ron was level with him, hovering about five meters away.  
  
"Fancy a bit of a catch?" Ron called, his voice studiously nonchalant. He tossed the quaffle over to Harry and started circling. Harry hooked the quaffle over one shoulder to Ron as he passed and so a silent game began.  
  
The two boys said nothing, simply tossed the quaffle back and forth between them as they flew in increasingly complex patterns. They landed together as darkness fell. Still saying nothing and hardly even seeming to look at one another, they walked side by side to the edge of the pitch, brooms over their shoulders. Waiting for them was Hermione. She looked at them carefully, her eyes questioning. Ron merely smiled at her, dropping an arm around her shoulders and Harry fell into step on her other side. Harry knew, deep down, the wounds weren't healed, but perhaps, just perhaps, they weren't so raw any longer.  
  
In the following weeks, Harry came to rely on those chances to fly. After Ron's arrival on the pitch, others joined them. At first, it was only other Gryffindor team members, but they were soon joined by other Gryffindors and even students from other houses. Impromptu scrimmages were not uncommon, with students rotating in and out of the various positions. However, just as often, students merely flew about, playing catch with the quaffles or batting bludgers back and forth. Those who did not choose to fly took to sitting in groups in the stands, chatting or studying until the light faded, bringing their airborne classmates to earth. Notably absent from this inter-house camaraderie was most of Slytherin house above first year and Ginny Weasley.  
  
At first, Harry was unsurprised by this as Dean Thomas was often one of the players. Ginny would hardly want to be hanging about a bloke with whom she had so recently broken off. Still, after weeks had passed and so many students had begun to use the stadium seats as one great common room, it did seem strange that Ginny was never among them. His conversations with Ron were still somewhat tense and stilted and Harry was unwilling to bring up any overly sensitive subjects, so he turned to Hermione.  
  
"I don't know, Harry," Hermione answered his enquiries with a frown. "I've tried to get her to come sit with me, but mostly, she seems to hang about in her dorm room, alone. I don't like it."  
  
"Dean said she was just really upset about Percy," Harry replied, thoughtfully. Harry hadn't mentioned Dean's opinion that Ginny was angry with him to Hermione. The thought made him very uncomfortable. He felt if Dean could see it, then anyone could, as if her anger was a visible mark on him, a stain which no scrubbing could remove. He felt better avoiding the whole subject.  
  
"Maybe I'll have a talk with Ron," mused Hermione. "Though, he does have enough to contend with right now and I hate to worry him." She frowned. "Maybe I should owl Fred, instead." Harry was partly relieved that Hermione agreed and partly alarmed at her reaction. Although she got on well enough with the Weasley twins, Hermione had never been in the habit of corresponding with them, so it was a measure of her worry that she would begin now.  
  
Hermione must have followed through, for Ginny began receiving regular visits from the large barn owl the twins were now using. There was, however, no noticeable difference. Ginny still kept largely to herself, talking only with Ron and, occasionally, Hermione, who had been helping her prepare for her O.W.L.s.  
  
Dueling was different, however. There, Ginny regained all her usual animation and though she was clearly not happy, she was attentive and unusually quick to learn. Before long, she had managed to cast some ugly hexes on a number of the other students. The Bat-bogey hex remained her best curse, but she could cast a very convincing Amputare jinx which was strong enough to even cause a twinge of pain, as if the appendage had actually been injured. When Annwyl discovered this, she took Ginny aside and began working with her separately. As they left the Great Hall later, Harry heard Ron ask her about the session with Annwyl and Ginny's indifferent response.  
  
"I don't know, Ron. She just said that if I was casting spells with that much strength, I needed to be trained to focus it better so I didn't actually harm someone when I didn't mean to." Harry noticed that neither Ron nor Hermione looked at all pleased with the answer. That kind of interest coming from Annwyl was not exactly reassuring news.  
  
In general, Harry could see that the additional dueling club sessions were having some good effects. Even Neville had managed to disable a few opponents and that boost to his confidence carried him as he learned several new jinxes with surprising ease. Hermione, always quick to pick up a spell, had improved her speed and stamina and was a real menace in a fight. Ron's strategy had only improved making him as effective as Hermione. After several weeks of mock fights, very few students were disarmed without casting several curses of their own. No one was going down without a fight. That knowledge eased Harry's mind just a bit.  
  
April blended into May and the fifth and seventh years were beginning to show signs of strain as O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams loomed closer. The evening social gathering at the Quidditch pitch continued but fewer of the fifth and seventh year students joined in. Harry never missed the chance to fly, putting as much intense effort into the activity as in a team practice session. He was desperate to tire himself out, hoping that the fatigue would purchase an extra hour of sleep before the dreams began.  
  
Since the violence in Hogsmeade, Harry had had no more lapses or strange visions. Instead, his dreams continued in the vague, formless way he had been experiencing for months. Indistinct images of destruction in places Harry didn't recognize blended with impressions of pain, anger and confusion. His scar stung and tingled on a nearly continuous basis, but never enough to warrant any particular concern. Harry attributed this to some modest success in his Occlumency lessons. These lessons continued on a nearly weekly basis, but they were overseen now by Professor McGonagall. When Harry asked why, Snape interrupted his colleague with an impatient bark.  
  
"Rather than wasting time in idle speculation, Potter, suppose you leave the headmaster's concerns to the headmaster. Today, I desire you to repel me completely. I do not wish to observe even one word in your mind." Snape shot a quick glance at McGonagall. Harry barely had time to register this instruction before the attack came. "Legilimens!"  
  
Now, Harry had been able to restrict his professor's access to just one word on numerous previous occasions. However, the strain of recent weeks and the restless sleep was catching up. Try as he would, Harry was unable to push Snape from his mind. At first, he was able to keep just one word in his head, but as the older man pushed, Harry began to tire. With the inevitability of a dam bursting, the mental block Harry had set cracked and finally burst wide. Images from Harry's lapses and visions flooded his mind. He could feel Professor Snape scanning them like so many magazine pages. Though resistance seemed pointless, Harry struggled against Snape's presence. He had no concept of time passing until a distant voice cut through the thoughts whirling through his mind.  
  
"Professor! Stop this instant! Professor! What on earth...? FINITE INCANTATEM!"  
  
Just as suddenly as it began, the assault on Harry's mind ended. He dropped heavily to his knees, his wand clattering to the stones beside him. In the sudden silence, Harry realized he must have been yelling. His throat was raw and his breathing was ragged. Slowly, he lifted his head. Professor McGonagall stood over him, her face red, her wand drawn. She wasn't looking at him, however, but Professor Snape. The dark man leaned heavily on the table, meeting her gaze with equal ire.  
  
"Professor," he hissed, "you should know how dangerous it was to end that spell from outside the minds involved. You might easily have harmed either of us."  
  
"And you should know that you had carried on quite long enough, Professor," she returned sharply. "It was obvious to anyone that you had broken into Potter's thoughts. You should have stopped the instant it occurred. Obviously, you did no such thing."  
  
By this time Snape had recovered his usual icy composure. He listened to his colleague's tirade with a contemptuous expression and before answering, turned a speculative look on Harry. Harry struggled to his feet under that intense gaze, trying to meet it with a look which expressed his own fury at the man's behavior. The only response from the man was a trace of satisfaction quirking the corner of his mouth.  
  
"My dear Professor, I am trying to induce Potter to take his instruction seriously. If he is to repel intrusion by the Dark Lord, he must be able to do so while under an onslaught of considerable strength. I assure you the Dark Lord will not relent because our hero is discomfited." Professor McGonagall, though still visibly shaken and more than a little angered by what had occurred, had no answer to make. Seeing this, Snape nodded slightly and turned to Harry. "Potter, I suggest you continue to practice clearing your mind. You must manage to apply yourself rather better than this if you expect to defend your thoughts from outside influence." He nodded curtly to Professor McGonagall and stalked from the room in a billow of black robes.  
  
"Mr. Potter... Harry," Professor McGonagall said softly, "what we are asking of you is no simple task. Occlumency is very advanced magic and few fully-qualified, adult wizards ever study it, let alone master it." Harry didn't answer, but stared at the door through which Snape had disappeared. "I just thought you should know that," she finished and exited the room, leaving Harry to his thoughts.  
  
In no gentle frame of mind, Harry made his way back toward Gryffindor tower. The encounter with Snape left him tired and angry. He was certain the lesson wouldn't have been conducted in that manner if Dumbledore had been present. Why had he stopped coming to the sessions? Harry had seen him in the castle only a short while before. Granted, the old man still looked on the peaky side, but surely he could have sat with them during the lesson. If it was so all-fired important for Harry to study Occlumency with Snape, one would think the headmaster could have made the effort.  
  
Harry climbed another staircase and entered a long, empty corridor. The evening session at the Quidditch pitch had ended before his lesson and most students seemed to have returned to their respective common rooms for the evening. Even Peeves seemed unusually quiet. Harry was grateful for only a few days before, the unruly poltergeist had caught him unawares between classes and, with a particularly terrible yowl directly in Harry's unsuspecting ear, sent him sprawling, books scattered across the corridor. Harry was in no mood for a repeat performance.  
  
"Tell me, Potter. If Snape is the Defense professor now, why are you still taking remedial potions lessons from him?" Harry jumped at the sound of Malfoy's voice coming from a darkened niche to his left. The blonde boy stepped out into Harry's path.  
  
"Malfoy, you skulk around like some muggle movie gumshoe," Harry scoffed. "You really are going to have to work harder if you want to be menacing." He moved to step past and continue on his way, but Malfoy merely slid over into his path again.  
  
"Ah, ah, ah, Potter. Not so fast, if you please. I asked you a question. Didn't those muggles you lived with teach you manners?" He sneered faintly. "Er, never mind. I think I answered my own question on that point, haven't I?" Harry's fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, but he kept his mouth tightly clamped shut. "What, no more witty repartee, Potter? I admit, I am disappointed, though I can't really think why."  
  
"Shove off, Malfoy," Harry growled, his teeth clenched together so hard, his jaw creaked.  
  
'An excellent suggestion, Potter..." Malfoy stepped forward suddenly, his shoulder catching Harry's roughly, sending him staggering to the side. The fury Harry had felt when accosted by Snape just moments before had not cooled and, when added to his constant state of irritation where Malfoy was concerned, Harry's anger flared up with ferocious suddenness.  
  
The air seemed around Harry seemed to vibrate slightly and a bright red light flashed. With a simultaneous CRACK and Malfoy dropped gracelessly to his seat on the stone floor with a bone-jarring thump. Harry faced him, small flickers of reddish light, like St. Elmo's Fire, crackling in the air around him. However, before he could speak or Malfoy react, another voice rang out from behind them.  
  
"Potter! Malfoy! That will be enough." Annwyl was striding toward them, her face clearly showing her anger. "There will be no brawling in the corridors." Malfoy scrambled quickly to his feet and Harry faced Annwyl, willing himself to calm down.  
  
"You two may consider yourselves fortunate that the headmaster has suspended inter-house competition. Your behavior would surely have cost your houses dearly." She glared at the silent boys before her. "As it is, detention will have to suffice. Mr. Malfoy, you will report immediately to Mr. Filch. I understand he is working in several of the disused classrooms on the fourth floor, spraying for doxies. You will assist him with this and any other cleaning tasks he may have scheduled in those rooms this evening. Mr. Potter, you will come with me. I have some asphodel which is dry and ready for grinding and the second years are brewing sleeping draughts tomorrow. You will prepare it for me." She turned and headed back toward the staircase leading toward the dungeons. Malfoy stood a moment, looking as if he wanted to object, but with an odd shake of his head, he closed his mouth and strode off along the corridor, apparently to find Filch. Harry frowned and followed Annwyl down the stairs.  
  
She didn't speak until they had reached the potions classroom. Once there, she summoned a mortar and pestle, a bushel basket of dried asphodel, and several stoppered dispensing jars.  
  
"All right then, Mr. Potter. I want you to grind that asphodel and fill those jars. Be sure it is ground absolutely smooth. Lumps will cause the potions to simmer unevenly. When you have finished, see me in my office." She crossed the room, entered her office and sat down at the desk facing the door. Several stacks of parchment stood on the desk and she began reading and marking these. Harry sighed and went to work.  
  
Nearly two hours later, Harry's arm was aching with exhaustion. The jars stood before him, filled with a fine pale purple powder and the basket was empty. He washed the mortar and pestle in the work sink in the corner and placed them on the shelf next to the others. He placed the jars in the basket and carried it to the open door of Annwyl's office and tapped on the frame.  
  
"Professor, I've finished the asphodel. Would you like to check it?" Annwyl did not look up from her grading but motioned him to the seat before her. Frowning, he set the basket on the corner of the desk and sat. Much of his anger had been released as he pounded and ground the dried roots and he was left with a sullen sort of resignation. He knew it had been careless of him to let loose uncontrolled magic that way but he could not find it in him to care overmuch.  
  
Annwyl finished marking the parchment before her, laid down her quill and looked at Harry. "Well, Harry, suppose you tell me what is troubling you so. Malfoy's a little runt, but hardly worth such a display." Harry had been expecting a tongue-lashing for letting Malfoy get to him and had prepared a tirade about the Slytherin's behavior, but Annwyl's calm curiosity rather took the wind from his sails.  
  
"Nothing. That is, I...er, well, Malfoy caught me off guard and I just didn't want to..." Harry stopped, staring at the toe of his shoe. "There's nothing wrong, Professor."  
  
"I'm Professor this evening?" Annwyl's brow quirked at this. "All right, Harry. Suppose I do some guessing. You tell me if I've got it all correct." Taking his silence for acquiescence, she continued. "Everyone has been out of kilter since what happened in Hogsmeade. In addition, since that time, you have not been on particularly good terms with Ron, have you? I know Ron is upset over his brother but that wouldn't have anything to do with you. So, the two of you must have had words over something else at about that time. Hermione's been nearly beside herself trying to bridge the gap between you. How am I doing so far?" Harry nodded without meeting her gaze. "Right. Well, then there is Miss Weasley. Frankly, I can't figure out much there because she's at odds with nearly everyone these days. Understandable, I suppose. She's been suffering over her brother for months.  
  
"As for yourself, you obviously haven't been sleeping worth a hang. No, don't look all shocked. The bags under your eyes could carry Hermione's books. I gather from Albus that your Occlumency lessons are carrying on, with Professor McGonagall to supervise. Did you have a lesson this evening, Harry?" Harry nodded cautiously. "Didn't go frightfully well, did it?"  
  
"What do you know about it?" Harry asked. "They're supposed to be secret."  
  
"Yes, but Albus has told me and I ran into Minerva McGonagall just before finding you and Malfoy in the corridor. She was mad enough to chew nails. Simple deduction, I'm afraid. Care to talk about it?"  
  
"Erm, I'd rather not, actually. You seem to know, anyway," replied Harry.  
  
"Alright. Then, I guess I'll just have to lecture you," Annwyl sighed. "What more must I say to convince you, Harry, that you simply must learn to focus your energies. Magic is too dangerous a thing when you allow it to control you. It absolutely must be the other way round. Harry, don't you see how vulnerable you are when you lose yourself in that way? Let's say I had cast a curse you as you knocked Malfoy down. You were in no fit state of mind to defend yourself. Don't you see that losing control like that opens you for attack from another direction? And there you are, squandering your strength on noisy flashes of light!" She rose and stood before Harry's chair, causing him to look up and meet her eyes. "Complete control over mind and body at all times, Harry. It seems nearly impossible to achieve, I know, but you must strive for nothing less. Please, Harry. Listen. Get hold of yourself. There is too much at stake."  
  
"That's nothing new, now is it?" Harry snapped, coming to his feet. "There's always too much at stake and it is always my problem. I know I've got to control my magic and I know what happened this evening could have been very dangerous. Will that do? May I go now?"  
  
Annwyl sighed and stepped aside. "Yes, Harry. Go. I've nothing more to say to you."  
  
***  
  
The next morning, as Harry was leaving the Great Hall after breakfast, Professor Dumbledore appeared at his side. "Mr. Potter, may I have a word?" Harry silently followed Dumbledore to a more secluded area of the Entrance Hall. "Harry, our friend has returned to us and wishes to see you. Perhaps you can find a few moments after lessons this afternoon?"  
  
"Yes, sir. Thank you," Harry answered, his eyes lighting up. "Could I be excused from lessons to go now, sir?" The old man gave a tired smile and shook his head.  
  
"I understand your desire to visit, Harry, but our friend is tired. He needs rest before tomorrow evening. Give him a few hours to sleep and I am certain you will find him more companionable this afternoon." Professor Dumbledore turned to go, but took only a few steps before turning back. "Annwyl told me of your run-in with Mr. Malfoy. Harry, do be careful, my boy. Times are difficult enough without borrowing further trouble. Take Annwyl's advice to heart and do your best to master yourself, lest your anger harm you."  
  
Harry's face darkened, but he nodded to the headmaster who, satisfied, headed toward the main staircase. Harry watched him go, noting the slow, shuffling steps of the once vigorous man. He shuddered involuntarily, hefted his book bag to his shoulder and struck off for Herbology lessons.  
  
Lessons over at last, Harry hurried up to his dorm room to pick up his invisibility cloak and his map. Once away from Gryffindor tower, he had a little trouble getting to the dungeons unseen. Very few students had gone out to the Quidditch pitch as this was a Dueling Club night. Most were going in and out of classrooms, professor's offices, common rooms and the library. To Harry, who wanted only to get to Remus without bumping into anyone, it seemed every student in the school had opted to wander the corridors. More than once, he had to duck into a niche with a suit of armor or statue and wait for a larger group of students to pass before continuing. With a sigh of relief, he reached the lower dungeons and tapped his wand on the rune which guarded Remus' door. Once he was well inside, Harry swung the great door shut and yanked the cloak off his head. Remus stood on the hearth just putting away his wand.  
  
"Harry! Ah, excellent! I was hoping you'd be by today," Remus welcomed him. "Come on, sit. I'll start some tea." Harry dropped into a squashy armchair before the fire as Remus floated a tray of tea things to the low table beside him. A fragrant thread of steam issued from the nose of the pot and a plate of biscuits sat beside it. Remus took the opposite chair and stretched his legs toward the fire with a contented sigh. "Now, this is something more like it. Well, Harry, tell me how you've been?" He glanced briefly at the silent boy across from him. "And don't lie because you look like hell. Haven't you been sleeping?"  
  
Harry smiled a little. "I'm fine, Remus, really. A little tired, but I haven't had any lapses or visions for weeks. Not since... not since Hogsmeade." The smile vanished and Harry looked away into the fire. "Everyone is a little tired and peaky feeling since then, I guess."  
  
"Annwyl told me about the lapse during the attack. Nothing since then, though, yeah? Well, that's a mercy, anyway. I understand you've been having a bit of flying, too." Remus smiled. "I'm glad. Seems a healthy way of coping for all of you."  
  
The two sat in silence for some time. Remus poured their tea and they settled back, each with a cup, still saying nothing but simply enjoying a moment of peaceful companionship. Remus set his cup on the tray and moved to stand before the fire.  
  
"I'm sorry, Harry," he sighed. "No one ever thought it would be like this. I should be here more."  
  
"Remus, what are you talking about?" Harry asked, surprised. "You know if you spent any more time here you would be caught."  
  
"I should be here for you to talk to," Remus insisted. His voice was thick with a dull sort of stubbornness. "You shouldn't have to keep so much to yourself. I should be checking in more often or something. Sirius would have found a way and the Ministry be damned."  
  
"That's crazy!" Harry looked up at his father's friend in amazement and concern. "I have already spent more time with you this school year than I spent with Sirius in the previous two years. You know there is no way to see each other more than we do. Sirius would know that, too." His voice dropped and he looked away. "And, I'm not keeping anything to myself. Really, Remus. I'm okay. It's nothing more than the usual and we should all be used to that by now." Harry squirmed a bit. He didn't like lying to Remus but the man was so upset, Harry couldn't bear the thought of adding to his worries.  
  
"Harry," Remus spoke, turning from the fireplace, "I want you to promise me something." Harry frowned, but Remus pressed. "I mean it, Harry. I want you to promise me that if anything else goes wrong or you have any more of your visions or whatever, you will go straight to Dumbledore and tell him everything."  
  
"But, I..."  
  
"No 'buts', Harry. I know you are holding something back. I won't try to make you tell me. I couldn't. But, I want you to promise me that you won't hold back any more. If anything else happens, anything, I want you to go to Dumbledore with all of it. Promise me!"  
  
Harry stared at Remus, uncertain. Remus didn't know what he was asking, that was certain. If he'd seen what Harry had seen in those lapses, he wouldn't be so anxious for Harry to go to the headmaster. Harry was sure of that. Still, Remus was demanding a promise and it was clear he'd accept nothing less.  
  
"Alright, I promise." Harry watched the older man relax and drop back into his chair. He was struck by the new streaks of gray visible in the light brown hair. The lycanthropy was hard on a person, but the fear and worry was taking an even greater toll. "And now, will you promise me something?" Remus looked up in surprise. "Promise that you'll take better care of yourself. I don't know what the Order is having you do, but it's too much. I might look tired, but next to you, I'm ready for the cover of Witch Weekly."  
  
Remus grinned and looked at him speculatively. "You know, you might be ready at that. I hear they can charm the photo to fix features. I'm sure they could do something about that hair...Murmph!" His sentence was cut off abruptly as a sofa pillow caught him full in the face.  
  
***  
  
The dueling club met that evening, as usual, in the Great Hall. Divided into groups, some worked on various shield charms while others practiced full and partial body binds. Harry was in a group doing shield charms. He had mastered the simpler charms the previous year and found the more advanced charms much more interesting. It wasn't long before the Armoratus Barrier became his favorite and strongest charm. The Armoratus Barrier was able to surround an area, rather than merely and individual, as with Protego. The person casting Armoratus had to be able to speak some boundaries, followed by the actual spell. This meant that if one chose people as boundaries, the shield would flex and move as the people themselves moved. The drawback to the charm was the amount of energy required to sustain it against any attack. Setting the barrier was one thing, but holding it against the power of spells striking it was another altogether. Still, Harry saw its value and put particular effort into mastering it.  
  
They had been working nearly two hours when Harry noticed Malfoy leave the Hall and return several minutes later. Rather than rejoining his practice group, Malfoy went straight to Annwyl on the other side of the room, drawing her away from the group she had been testing. They were too far away for Harry to hear any of their conversation and he was unable to see Malfoy's face clearly, but the effects of his words on Annwyl were indisputable. She grew quite pale and, just as quickly, her color returned in an angry flush. She silenced Malfoy with a gesture and sent him back to his group. She then went to Snape who was working with the group next to Harry.  
  
"Professor, I find I must leave the students in your capable hands for the remainder of the evening. Some work which I had hoped to complete this evening requires my immediate attention." She was striding out the door before Snape could respond.  
  
Harry watched in amazement as Annwyl hurried from the Hall. Looking back at Malfoy, he saw the blonde boy was only going through the motions of the shielding spells. His attention was, quite clearly, wandering. The haughty, pointed chin was lifted and a strange glow of excitement brought a slight flush to the otherwise pale features. Something excited him very much and, from the expression on his face, Harry couldn't help but think that this was anything but cheery news. He watched the Slytherin surreptitiously for the next half hour without getting any further clue. Harry's unease only increased with Malfoy's obvious satisfaction. By the time Snape had dismissed the students, Harry was so wound up with nerves he was nearly twitching.  
  
Hermione, Ron in tow, approached Harry as the students filed from the Hall. "You've been watching him, too" she stated simply. Harry was too nervous to even show surprise. "Is Remus back in the castle? I think I saw Annwyl head toward the dungeons when she left. Maybe she told him what Malfoy was up to. Let's go ask." Harry agreed readily and glanced at Ron.  
  
"Yeah, I think we should all go," Harry said quietly. "D'you mind?" He looked hopefully at Ron who, after a nervous glance between Hermione and Harry, nodded solemnly and they set off.  
  
They waited in the shadow of a row of suits of armor for the Slytherin students to reach their common room and clear the dungeon corridors. Then, they moved silently down the stairs and hurried to the deeper passages where Remus' chambers were. Harry began to get an uncomfortable sensation of dread as they approached the rune-marked door. They passed a small, shadowed side passage and, with a strange sense of deja-vu, Harry remembered hiding there with Remus and Snape, only to find the noise they heard was Annwyl approaching. Now, as the memory came back to him, he recalled another sound. Softer, closer and never explained. Directly across from the passage was another walkway, also deeply shadowed. Snape had appeared from that direction that night. Only now did Harry find this curious. Surely, the passage was coming from the wrong direction to be another entrance from the main Entrance Hall above. Yet, Snape said he was returning to his chambers. Harry rubbed his scar thoughtfully for a moment. In a flash of intuition, he was gripped with a sudden urgency and began to run toward Remus' door.  
  
"Harry, wait!" Hermione hissed from behind. "Someone will hear us!"  
  
Harry plunged ahead, heedless, and reached the door a dozen paces ahead of Ron and Hermione. He touched his wand to the rune and the door swung inward. The sight which greeted them seemed almost inevitable. Chairs and tables were overturned, books pulled from the shelves and pages scattered, and the inner doors of the chamber hung crazily from their ripped and bent hinges. Remus was nowhere in sight. 


	17. Prise de Fer

**Disclaimer:** see previous  
  
**Author's Notes:** Uber-thanks to my beta Moriah S. She was particularly brutal this time and a chunk of what I intended for this chapter has been shuffled to chapter 18. This means we shall certainly have two more chapters before this is complete. Thanks also to my reviewers! You are amazing. I will compile a complete list for the next chapter's notes. I do appreciate you taking the time to leave a review to tell me what you think. I only ask that you continue! Here are a few translations for some phrases in this chapter -  
  
Prise de Fer - (fencing term) an engagement of the blades that forces the opponent's weapon into a new line

Fortuno Scholasticus - (Latin) Fortunate Student

Munio postis - (Latin) to build up the door  
  
HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND  
  
Chapter Seventeen - Prise de Fer  
  
"Oh, no..." Hermione's words were a breathless wail over Harry's shoulder. "Oh, Harry, what happened?"  
  
Harry hadn't moved since the door opened, but now, he stepped carefully over the threshold and silently made his way around the chamber. He didn't know exactly what he was looking for, but he scanned the debris carefully as he moved toward the inner rooms. The same sort of destruction had occurred throughout and there was still no sign of Remus. Harry's stomach clenched as the realization dawned on him. Only a few knew of Remus' presence and of those few, only one was distrusted in any way by the Order. Once again, Harry could feel the air around him tingle and vibrate. Taking a deep breath, he turned and ran out into the corridor. There, he leaned against the wall, hands on his knees, breathing heavily as if he had been running for miles.  
  
"Harry?" Ron had followed him out to the corridor. He was pale with worry. "We've got to get to Dumbledore, Harry. We've got to tell someone right away." Hermione had come out by now and was practically dancing with nervousness.  
  
"Ron's right. We can't Floo call from here since this fireplace isn't connected. We'd better go to Professor Snape or Annwyl now."  
  
Harry looked up at his friends. "Annwyl. Right..." Retracing his steps along the dungeon corridor, Harry hurried along, Ron and Hermione trailing in his wake. He could still feel his magic twanging like an overstretched elastic band. With a grunt that could have been frustration but sounded more like rage, Harry increased his pace, racing along in the dim orange light of the widely spaced torches.  
  
She had known Remus was here. She disappeared from the Dueling Club session after a dodgy- looking conversation with Malfoy. Malfoy. What could he have to do with anything? Harry brushed that aside. Annwyl was the one to blame, he was sure. Remus would never have opened the door to Malfoy and certainly the Slytherin couldn't have entered on his own. Harry made a noise under his breath again and a series of small sparks flickered around the corridor. No question about it. Annwyl was to blame and Harry meant to find out what she knew. He rounded a corner and came up against a solid barrier with a thump.  
  
"By Merlin, what the devil...? Potter!" Snape readjusted his cloak and stared at Harry with a grimace. Harry had been knocked back against the wall from the impact and shifted to regain his balance just as Ron and Hermione dashed around the corner in pursuit. "Weasley? Miss Granger? What is the meaning of this?"  
  
"Oh, Professor," Hermione gasped out, "we've been to see Re, er, Professor Lupin, sir. But, he isn't there and his chambers are completely wrecked!"  
  
The dark man's face grew rigid for a second. Then the sallow features flushed unpleasantly. "He's not there? You saw no one, then?" He stared at each of them in turn his eyes resting on Harry last. "And what were you hoping to accomplish by racing around the dungeons like stampeding Erumpents?"  
  
Harry's eyes narrowed. "We were going to Professor King's chambers to Floo call the headmaster, sir. We need to start searching immediately."  
  
"Of course, Potter, but you, of all people, should understand by now the importance of not going off half cocked on any rescue mission that occurs to you." Turning to retrace his steps, Snape called back over his shoulder. "Come on, then. As Professor King's quarters are nearest, we'll go there directly."  
  
The four hurried along the corridor toward the Potions professor's chambers. Just as they reached the door, it swung wide, Annwyl standing before them.  
  
"Professor Snape? Harry! I, er," Annwyl looked at them worriedly. "I thought I felt something wrong. What has happened?"  
  
"I understand Remus Lupin has disappeared from his hiding place," Snape stated. "Potter tells me they were on their way here to use your fireplace to contact the headmaster."  
  
Annwyl stepped back from the door, motioning the others to enter. Her face was expressionless and her eyes wide. "Did you see anyone?" She looked at Harry carefully.  
  
Harry stood just inside the door, glaring at Annwyl. He felt Hermione brush past him toward the fireplace and heard her join Professor Snape in conversation with Dumbledore, but his eyes never left the woman before him.  
  
"We didn't see anyone. I think you can tell us all about it, though," he answered, his voice nearly a growl. "I want you to tell me what you've done with Remus." For a moment, no one in the room spoke. Even Professor Dumbledore, his head looking out from the fireplace, stopped his conversation with Professor Snape to watch Harry and Annwyl.  
  
"Don't be stupid, Harry," Annwyl snapped. "If I'd done something desperate to an Order member, do you really think I'd be fool enough to hang around under Albus Dumbledore's very nose?"  
  
Before Harry could reply, a loud knock sounded on the door, followed by Professor McGonagall's worried voice.  
  
"Professor King? Are you there? Have you seen Professor Snape anywhere about?" Not taking her eyes from Harry's, Annwyl reached behind her and opened the door. Professor McGonagall's expression changed from concern to confusion as she saw the assembled group. "What on earth is going on, then?" She looked from Annwyl to Harry and back, then to the group on the hearth. "Albus! What is all this?"  
  
"Perhaps you had all better step back, if you please," Dumbledore replied. He leaned forward slightly and in the next second, stepped out of the fireplace, sweeping soot from his long, white beard. "It seems," he said, addressing his deputy headmistress, "Remus Lupin has gone missing from his chambers. I wish to make a personal examination of the premises, right away." He turned to the door but paused to look back at McGonagall. "Minerva, you came seeking Professor Snape. Is there a problem?"  
  
McGonagall shook herself slightly, answering, "Oh, yes. Indeed. Severus, two of your students were looking for you. I happened upon them searching the library. It seems Mr. Malfoy has not been seen since the dueling club was dismissed. Misters Crabbe and Goyle tell me they have searched Slytherin House with no result."  
  
Harry's eyes narrowed at this. He remembered all too well, the look of anticipation on Malfoy's face which seemed to be the result of his hushed conversation with Annwyl and her immediate departure. A quick glance at Hermione showed her thoughts were similarly directed. Still, it was a bit of a surprise to him when Hermione spoke up.  
  
"Excuse me, Professor McGonagall, but perhaps Professor King will know where he might be. He spoke with her just before she left the meeting this evening." She looked at Annwyl with a studiously innocent expression. "He seemed rather pleased after speaking with you, Professor. Did he mention anything... particular?"  
  
"Er, why no," Annwyl answered, her eyes rather wide. "He said nothing to me about going anywhere. Headmaster, I think we'd best begin searching for Mr. Malfoy as well as Mr. Lupin."  
  
"Yes, we must begin immediately." Dumbledore led the way back along the corridor to Remus' rooms. Once there, he and the other three professors prowled around the room, examining the shredded books, broken and overturned furniture, and wrenched doors in detail. Leaning in so his nose nearly brushed the panel, Dumbledore inspected the great rune on the exterior of the door. "I see no evidence of tampering. Of course, I am aware of no spell capable of breaking the wards on this door, but as far as I can see, no attempt was even made."  
  
The enormity of the statement was not lost on his listeners. Harry turned to Annwyl with an ugly look which she bore with icy calm. Ron's eyes narrowed and Hermione's lips folded in a tight line. Professor McGonagall's usually grim expression was augmented by a dangerous flash of her eyes. Only Professor Snape seemed unaffected by the announcement.  
  
"Headmaster, however the intruders entered, it is quite certain that neither they, nor Lupin remain within the castle. It would be too risky for them to stay within the wards a moment longer than necessary. I suggest we begin searching at once for any clues as to their destination. They had to leave the grounds on foot, so there must be some trail to follow, provided we do not tarry."  
  
"Quite right, Professor. Minerva, you and Severus must begin at once. Take Hagrid into your confidence, but tell no others. I shall contact the Order immediately. I believe Bill Weasley is on duty at headquarters with Miss Tonks and Fletcher this evening. I'll have Mr. Weasley and Miss Tonks join you as soon as they can get to us." The two professors nodded and set off immediately. "Annwyl, I want you to begin a search within the castle for Mr. Malfoy. I don't imagine he can have gotten far. Harry, I know how worried you must be, but I am afraid I must ask you to return with Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger to Gryffindor tower. Once inside, set the wards you have been using on your dorm room on the common room as well. Stay in the tower until morning. If I learn anything further, I shall send you word."  
  
Harry wanted to argue, but could see that there was no point. The headmaster's expression was tired and sad, but resolute. Time spent arguing was time wasted. Then, with a stab of guilt, Harry remembered his promise to Remus just that afternoon.  
  
"No 'buts', Harry. I know you are holding something back. I won't try to make you tell me. I couldn't. But, I want you to promise me that you won't hold back any more. If anything else happens, anything, I want you to go to Dumbledore with all of it. Promise me!"  
  
Harry had promised, although it had been against his better judgment. Now, that promise had become a problem. The only person Harry felt he could really trust with the things on his mind was Remus, himself. Yet, even though his trust in Remus was implicit, he hadn't wanted to discuss the troubling dreams, the visions and his suspicions of Annwyl and Malfoy. Just how was he supposed to discuss these things with anyone else? If he had thought about it at all, it would have been surprising how easily he justified silence. After all, the first priority was searching for Remus. All other talk could wait until a search of the grounds and surrounding area was complete.  
  
"Alright, Professor," Harry answered docilely, to the astonishment of his friends, "I'll set the wards as soon as we get in. But sir, I'll be waiting for word."  
  
It was a silent trip as Harry led Hermione and Ron up the winding staircases to the Fat Lady's portrait. Hermione had tried a few consoling platitudes as they left the dungeons, but Ron had shushed her. After that, they went without speaking at all. Reaching the portrait, Harry spoke the password automatically, "Fortuno Scholasticus," and clambered through the opening. Once the other two had come through, Harry turned to the portrait.  
  
"Munio Postis," he said quietly, his wand drawing a large X across the portrait hole. His wand left a pale blue track which lingered for a moment before fading. Hermione mustered a meager smile.  
  
"Harry, your charm casting's gotten loads better, you know? Those ward charms aren't easy but that looked just right."  
  
"I've had plenty of practice this year," Harry answered grimly. He went to the window and looked out over the castle grounds. It was still early in the season and deciduous trees of the forest were only just beginning to show their leaves. In the light of the nearly full moon, they cast thin shadows across the patches of new grass. At least, it would be a bit easier to search for signs of Remus' abductors. There was no doubt in Harry's mind that the man had, in fact, been taken. Remus would never have left without so much as a word to anyone, even if he was pursuing whoever had wrecked his rooms.  
  
"Harry, what are you planning to do now?" Ron's voice was casual but when Harry turned to look at him, he could see the tension in Ron's eyes.  
  
"What d'you mean?" Harry replied with equal unconcern. "You heard Dumbledore. He'll tell us whatever it is they learn. In the meantime, we are to stay put."  
  
"Yes, I know that is what Dumbledore said, Harry," replied Ron, his voice notching up slightly in pitch. "What I want to know is what you are going to do." His eyes focused on Harry with an expression that brooked no evasions.  
  
Harry prowled restlessly around the deserted common room. "Ron, I'm not sure what to do. Whatever it is, I don't want you or Hermione to worry about it. For now, I'm going to wait and see what Dumbledore learns."  
  
"You won't try sneaking out to look for Remus, then?" Hermione ventured. Harry shook his head. "Oh, thank goodness! Harry, you have no idea how glad I am to hear that." Harry didn't answer but returned to the window to watch out over the grounds. In the distance, he could see a faint glow moving among the trees and heading deeper into the Forbidden Forest. The search was on. Hermione spoke up again.  
  
"Well, I don't see any of us sleeping much tonight. I'll just go up and get my books, shall I, and maybe we can get that charms homework done." Ron agreed and rose to retrieve his book bag, but Harry turned around, shaking his head.  
  
"You two go on. I'm awfully tired and I don't think I could make any sense of it, tonight. I think I'll turn in and wait for word from Dumbledore." Heading up the stairs toward the boys' dorms, he turned and looked back at his friends' stunned expressions. "Stop worrying. I promise I won't go off searching for Remus tonight. I'll wait and see what they learn. After that, though, I promise nothing." With that, he went up to his room.  
  
Once he had climbed into bed and drawn the hangings tightly shut, Harry lit his wand and laid out the parchment, quill and ink he had taken to bed. He, then, meticulously listed all the things that had happened over the last few months which led him to distrust Annwyl King. He left out nothing from Charlie Weasley's warning to the strange midnight owl post she'd received. He listed the inconsistencies he had noticed in her explanation to the Order, her arrival aboard the Hogwarts Express, her duel with Snape, and the long-ago duel with a student she had said was a Hufflepuff but Remus remembered as being Slytherin. He didn't know how long he'd been writing, but when he'd listed it all he sat back. Before him was a parchment some two feet long bearing a detailed inventory of all the reasons he was prepared to blame Annwyl for Remus' disappearance. He had promised Remus to tell Dumbledore everything and if, as Harry expected, there was no news of Remus after the full moon had passed, he would leave this for Dumbledore and set off looking for Remus himself. He didn't have a plan, as yet, though he had some vague notions of going to the Weasley twins. He felt reasonably sure he could rely on their secrecy, if not their complicity.  
  
Quietly, Harry got out of bed and went to his trunk. Folding and sealing the parchment, he tucked it deep into the trunk, under some books. He shut it with a locking spell and went to the window. The moon was already nearly setting and soon dawn would come. Harry saw no signs of movement in the forest and wondered if the searchers had returned. It was all so still and silent, he nearly jumped out of his skin when Ron's voice whispered behind him.  
  
"What are you going to do, Harry? I know you've got something planned."  
  
"Don't be daft, Ron," Harry answered. "What can I do? We know nothing and nobody saw anything."  
  
"But you didn't promise not to look for him. What did you have in mind?" pressed Ron.  
  
"Look, I don't know, but someone'll have to think of something. We can't just let Remus be dragged off by a bunch of Death Eaters. You know Voldemort would love to turn one of Dumbledore's own into a soul-imposed servant. If he can get to Remus, that would be a huge blow for the Order." Harry's whisper dropped to the barest brush of sound. "Not to mention what it would mean to me."  
  
"Harry, I," Ron stammered, "I don't know what to say." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Can't you trust Dumbledore? If anyone can find him, he can. He'll find Remus, Harry. I know it."  
  
"Go to bed, Ron," Harry answered tiredly. "I told you not to worry. I'm not running off anywhere until we know more. I can't do anything until after the full moon anyway. Remus, himself, is too dangerous just now." He spoke calmly, trying to control his anger. Ron was so sure Dumbledore would fix everything. Harry was too tired of the whole argument to try to make Ron understand. "Go on, Ron. I mean it. Get some sleep."  
  
Harry got back into bed and drew the hangings shut without further comment. After a few moments, he heard Ron do the same. For a long time, as the room slowly grew lighter, Harry lay staring at nothing, trying to control his whirl of thoughts, trying to formulate some plan. Despite Snape's dig in the corridor earlier, Harry intended to be very cautious about launching a rescue plan that wasn't well thought out. The hard part was dealing with the bitter truth about Remus' disappearance. There was a very good chance that there was no longer a Remus to rescue.  
  
Harry worked that thought over in his mind. No more Remus. Somehow, it didn't register. He tried a little harsher thought. They've very likely killed Remus. Nothing. He gave it one more try. Sirius is gone and now, Remus could be gone as well. That did it. Harry's breath began to catch in his throat and his chest heaved with strangled gasps. Unable to stop, he thrust his face deep into his pillow to muffle the scream of rage that was threatening to tear him in two.  
  
Though he had hoped to receive an owl quite early, Harry wasn't particularly surprised that, by time to head downstairs for breakfast, he had not. Hermione and Ron tried to make some conversation at the table, but Harry's grim silence finally quashed their efforts. Instead, they joined him in watching the head table for any clue from the professors. At last, as many students were leaving for classes, Professor McGonagall came to them, holding them back.  
  
"Mr. Potter, the headmaster wished me to pass on this note. As I am sure you will end up reading it to Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger anyway, you may as well do so now." She gave them a hard stare which softened slightly as she met Harry's eyes. "Mr. Potter, I beg of you to do as Professor Dumbledore asks. I know how affected you are by our friend's predicament, but you must not do anything foolish. Wait and trust those who are seeing to it."  
  
"Professor, what about Malfoy?" Hermione put in quietly. He had not been at the Slytherin table at all through breakfast. Professor McGonagall frowned in concern.  
  
"We are still searching. There has been, as yet, no indication where he has gone or what may have happened to him." She nodded to the three and followed the remaining students from the Hall.  
  
Harry stared at the parchment in his hand a moment, looking at it as if he expected it to bite him at any moment. Then, with a grunt of impatience, he broke the seal and yanked the parchment open.  
  
Harry, though I do not have good news for you, I trust you will find what information we have gathered not entirely devoid of hope. Upon searching the Forbidden Forest, we came across a message left behind by our friend. It said,  
'I have been found out and am running. DO NOT follow. I'll be able to move  
more easily on my own. With luck, I'll get clear of these Death Eaters and will  
be able to contact you.' This message was etched into a tree trunk deep in the forest. We were unable to find any further signs of humans passing through the area.  
I know you will disagree, Harry, but I must ask you to join me in honoring our friend's request. The Order will be upon the watch and any clue will be followed. Otherwise, we must wait and hope to receive word soon.  
  
Harry tossed the paper across the table to Hermione with a snort of disgust. "So, we sit. Remus is running from Death Eaters and we sit." He frowned at the tabletop. "I don't know how I could find him, but you'd think the Order would bloody well be concerned."  
  
Hermione looked up from the note. "Harry, look at it this way. Remus got away. He's alive. He's running, but that means they haven't caught him. He's brilliant at Defense. If anyone can get away, Remus can."  
  
Though it was as grim for Remus as Harry had feared in his worst dreams, he couldn't help feeling some relief at Hermione's words. Remus was brilliant at Defense and he could get out of tight spots better than most. Rising, Harry pulled his book bag to his shoulder. "We'd better get to lessons. Defense is generally bad enough, but if Snape was out all night searching, his mood will be even more foul." He headed out of the hall, the others following in his wake.  
  
As it turned out, Harry wasn't wrong. Snape was in a particularly foul mood, his exhaustion plain to see on his face. For the first few minutes of the lesson, Harry toyed with staying after to ask about last night's search. However, after Snape had used Harry to demonstrate shield- breaking spells for nearly fifteen minutes, Harry changed his mind. By the end of class, he was too worn out from trying to maintain the Protego charm against Snape's counter-jinxes to face the irritable professor any longer.  
  
It hadn't taken long for word to spread that Draco Malfoy was missing. Rumors were wild and thick in the corridors between lessons. Some said that Malfoy was serving an extended detention in the headmaster's office. Others claimed to have heard that Malfoy had departed by carriage for the train station early that morning. Still others, mostly Slytherins, said that Malfoy had been chosen by the professors for highly specialized training to hone his exceptional skills. A few more raucous members of Slytherin house figured he had managed to sneak off to Hogsmeade and a Floo connection and was enjoying few days' debauchery in the pubs of wizarding London.  
  
Wherever he had gotten to, Malfoy's disappearance was of only secondary interest to Harry. He found himself watching windows in every classroom for any sign of an approaching owl. He started up the to the owlery a half dozen times during the day with the thought of sending Hedwig to look for him. Each time, however, he was halted by the memory of Hedwig's injury the previous year. No, that sort of thing required one of the Order's special owls. Now, he might have gone to the headmaster with that suggestion, but Harry had been told, in no uncertain terms, to wait and did not expect anyone to change their minds over a suggestion from him. So, Harry took to haunting the library, searching for protective charms for post owls. Properly guarded, Hedwig would be able to search for Remus. She had never failed to find anyone yet, and Harry was confident that she could locate Remus now.  
  
The search was slow and unsatisfactory. Harry found a few lesser ward charms but they were intended for guarding the birds through heavy rain, snow or wind rather than shielding them from unfriendly spells. Harry carried on searching through stacks of books after lessons for several days before breaking down and asking for help. Even though he had remained on reasonably friendly terms with her and his conversations with Ron were no longer hostile, the tension between them and Harry was still palpable. Ron had seemed most like his old self the night of Remus' disappearance, but now, several days later, that brief display of the old camaraderie was gone and he had returned to his polite but reserved tone when addressing Harry. Still, Harry couldn't justify risking his one chance of finding Remus over his pride and, after scouring the library for three days, he approached Hermione and Ron as they studied together in the common room.  
  
"Do you guys think you could help me? I've thought of a way we could search for Remus without leaving the castle, but I need some protective charms for Hedwig."  
  
Hermione looked up, interested at once. "Do you mean you want to send Hedwig out to find him?" Harry nodded. "That's a great idea Harry, but why not ask Dumbledore to send an Order owl?"  
  
Harry grimaced and answered, "You heard what Dumbledore said. He wants to wait for Remus to contact the order. I just want to be sure he has a way to do that."  
  
So, that afternoon found the three of them in the library, combing through several stacks of books Hermione had selected. They were the only sixth years there at the time, as most of the tables had been claimed by groups of fifth years studying for O.W.L.s and seventh years preparing for N.E.W.T.s. It was nearly dinnertime when, to their surprise, they were approached by Professor Snape.  
  
"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley," he said with a beckoning gesture, "your presence is required on prefect business. Please follow me."  
  
Hermione and Ron rose in surprise. "Harry," said Hermione as she gathered her quill and parchment "Don't wait dinner for us. We'll catch you up there and we can come back after to keep looking." She and Ron followed the professor out of the library.  
  
Harry stayed for a bit longer but then set the books aside and went downstairs. Hermione and Ron didn't come in during dinner, though Harry did see most of the other prefects at the meal. He considered asking one of the other prefects but noticed Snape had not returned, either. Deciding Ron and Hermione had merely been kept behind for something, Harry finished dinner as well as he could with no appetite and returned to the library. Madame Pince had allowed him to keep the stacks of books on a back table so he was able to go straight to work.  
  
Time passed and Harry worked through one large stack of books without finding anything of value. As the evening progressed, he began watching the door, expecting Ron and Hermione to enter at any time. Three hours had passed since dinner and still there had been no sign of them. Madame Pince was ushering students out of the library in time for curfew, and Harry reluctantly put his things in his bag and left.  
  
He had turned the corner into a small corridor which lead to a shortcut to Gryffindor tower when he heard a sound behind him. Whirling around, wand drawn, Harry peered back along the dark passageway. He tensed when he saw Annwyl emerge from the shadows.  
  
"Take it easy, Harry," she whispered quietly. "It's just me."  
  
"Am I supposed to find that reassuring?" Harry snapped, keeping his wand trained on her as she advanced toward him. "Was Remus relieved to see you, too?"  
  
"Listen to me, Harry. I don't have much time. There are some things happening and if you want to help Remus or anyone else, you are going to have to trust me," she answered urgently. Harry snorted, but she ignored him and continued, "Harry you need to promise me that you will follow my lead, no matter what happens."  
  
"Are you kidding me?" Harry's voice shook with anger. "Do you seriously think I'd ever trust you for anything? And what do you mean I could help Remus? And who else is needing help?"  
  
Annwyl scanned the passage nervously. "There isn't time to explain now. I know you don't believe me, and I don't have time to tell you enough to convince you. Harry, please. For Remus' sake. Just do what I tell you, no matter what."  
  
Harry was about to retort when they heard lightly scuffing footsteps moving toward them. Annwyl tensed and gave Harry one, long, strange look. Quick as lightning, she pulled her wand from her sleeve and shot ropes at Harry, binding him tightly, hand and foot. A sharp spoken spell placed a gag in his mouth. She spoke clearly in the direction of the footsteps. "Alright, come ahead, then. I've got him."  
  
Harry's eyes widened when first Draco Malfoy and then Professor Snape came around the corner and joined them in the corridor. Malfoy wore an expression of unabashed glee as he took in the sight of Harry, completely helpless, his wand in Annwyl's hand. Snape's face was a stony mask. He stalked forward, hand outstretched.  
  
"I'll take his wand, King. Malfoy, get the portkey ready."  
  
Harry struggled furiously, straining against the bonds. He tried to yell but could manage only small grunts around the large gag. His struggles were useless, of course, but they did mask the sounds of yet one more person approaching. From the opposite end of the corridor, another figure appeared. Ginny Weasley.  
  
She stopped short, her mouth gaping. A split second passed in which no one moved from sheer surprise. Then, Ginny gasped and scrambled for her wand as Malfoy leveled his. Curses were forming on the lips of each when Annwyl moved. She darted forward, between them, dragging Harry with her. Malfoy checked his curse in time, but Ginny's bounced off the shield Annwyl barely had time to cast.  
  
Snape snatched an empty apothecary jar from Malfoy and lunged for Harry, grasping him by the hair. Annwyl and Malfoy reached out, grabbing for the jar.  
  
"NOOOOO!!!!" Ginny flung herself forward, catching Annwyl around the shoulders just as the portkey whisked them away.


	18. Riposte

**Disclaimer: see previous chapters  
  
Author's Notes: Again, my lurve and thanks to my beta, Moriah S. And now... hold on to your hats, people! I want to thank EVERYONE who has reviewed this story. You can't imagine how wonderful you all are - Slate1198, Calen, auntmarge731, Tess, Keyca, dying reader, Lady-Of-The-Rings, Eccentric75885, Jen, Tiffany, oasis, gina87, mrs-osborne's-class, SPASH Panther, plasterwork, HermioneGreen, Becky, samyjoc, Wind Whisperer, EriEka127, MadEye, Sirius24, Sea-Turtles, starlight-aurora, Kemenran, Neoma, David305, PrphtssP, klg, Magnus Thorson, Locke21, Serenity55, LoopyForLupin, A-Brighter-Dawn, malexandria, Stellaluna Melonballer, Hillary and Jess, Miriam G, Anime Elvengirl, mitch, and Sword Wielder- Firebreath  
  
Chapter 19 will be the last and I hope you have all enjoyed this as much as I have. If you didn't, well, it is a little late now, I guess. Sorry. :D  
  
Please don't forget to review!  
  
HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND  
  
Chapter 18 - Riposte  
**  
**Riposte**: _an offensive action made immediately after a parry of the opponent's attack.  
_  
With his arms and legs bound, Harry was unable to get his balance as the Portkey deposited the group at their destination. He would have fallen, had Snape not still had a firm grip on his hair. As it was, he sagged to one side, only to be yanked painfully upright again. Malfoy stood opposite, his wand trained on Annwyl, around whose neck Ginny was clinging, trying to regain her own balance. Annwyl shrugged the girl off and whirled.  
  
"That was an extremely stupid thing to do, Miss Weasley," she hissed. Once again, she shot ropes and a gag from her wand, binding Ginny as she had Harry. "You will regret what you have done. A pity, really, for it was so unnecessary."  
  
Harry had now recovered from the shock enough for the anger he had been feeling for Annwyl to start to well up in him. He could feel his magic tingling around him once again and this time, made no effort at all to check it. Sensing the energy, Snape turned on him. "Oh no you don't, Potter. Stupefy!"  
  
Everything went black.  
  
Stirring, Harry pushed himself painfully into a sitting position. He found that the gag had been removed and though Annwyl's bindings were off his arms and legs; they had been replaced by heavy manacles which hobbled his steps and kept his arms pulled slightly behind him. Thankfully, he still had his glasses. His wand, however, had disappeared with Snape and Harry figured he wouldn't be getting it back anytime soon. The room in which Harry woke was grim enough to squelch anyone's thought of escape, even with a wand. The floor was hard packed and somewhat sour-smelling earth, the walls were stone and the low ceiling was supported by heavy, ancient-looking beams. There was no window and the only ventilation was a largish crack below the substantial wooden door. Whatever lay outside the door, there was enough light for some to filter under the crack, allowing Harry to look around a bit. Seeing a huddled shape in the far corner, Harry spoke softly.  
  
"Ginny? Is that you?" The shape stirred and groaned slightly. "Ginny! Wake up!"  
  
"H-Harry? Where are we? What happened?" Ginny's voice was thick with confusion.  
  
"I don't know. I only just woke up. Did Snape stupefy you, too?"  
  
"No, that was Malfoy," Ginny answered resentfully. "Annwyl took my wand. What's going on?"  
  
"I'm not sure," Harry replied, puzzled. "Annwyl stopped me in the corridor with a lot of rubbish about following her lead to help Remus." He stopped abruptly. Ginny wasn't even supposed to know Remus had been in the castle, never mind knowing he had disappeared. When Ginny didn't question him, he cautiously continued. "The next thing I knew, she bound me and took my wand. Why were you even there?  
  
"I was looking for Ron and Hermione. No one had seen them since they left with you to go to the library. I thought they might be on their way back to the tower since the library was closing, so I was going to meet them." She was silent for a moment. "What do we do now?"  
  
"I have a feeling we'll be told, soon enough," said Harry. "Ungh... my head...feels like Buckbeak stepped on it. Any idea what time it is?"  
  
Ginny shrugged. "I'm wearing a watch, but I can't see it with my wrists behind me."  
  
Harry scooted over to where she sat and twisted around to look at her left arm. "Eight o'clock. Morning or evening?" He shook his head to clear it. "I have no idea how long we've been out. It was about nine in the evening when I left the library." Ginny shrugged again.  
  
Nothing further was said for a time and Harry noticed the light under the door changing and fading. It was like watching a sunset through a two inch slit. When no more light was visible, they heard the scrape of a key on a lock and the door swung outward. Malfoy stood silhouetted in the opening, flanked by two hooded Death Eaters. Behind them, Harry could see open sky, scattered with stars. He figured they must be in some sort of storm cellar or cold room. That would likely mean another larger building nearby. Certainly, they weren't at Hogwarts.  
  
Malfoy lit his wand and gestured toward them. "Come on, then. It's time you two spent a little quality time with your host." Ginny and Harry rose awkwardly, hampered by the shackles, and moved toward the doorway. The two Death Eaters stepped aside, allowing them to climb up a short flight of steps.  
  
Once fully outside, Harry scanned about, trying to find something that would give him a hint as to their location. He saw a large, derelict manor house ahead of them and farther off, a collection of smaller houses. He could make out the steeple of a small church and was struck with a sense of familiarity. The house, toward which Malfoy was steering them, was unknown to him.  
  
Reaching a side door, the group entered the house. The place was chilly and damp, festooned with cobwebs, and what furniture remained was swathed in graying sheets. Harry shivered, then scowled at the swagger in Malfoy's step as he led them toward a dusty, narrow service staircase. Malfoy shot a malevolent grin over his shoulder and led them upward. Upon entering the upper hall, Harry's breath caught in horror. He had, indeed, seen this house before, though only once. Once, in what was now a long ago dream, Harry had seen this hallway. They proceeded into a room at the far end of the passage and entered. Harry's worst fears were confirmed. This was the house which he had seen in a dream. In this room, Wormtail had brought a frightened old man, the caretaker of this crumbling manor, before the horrible, misshapen vestige of Voldemort. This was the Riddle House in Little Hangleton and their host was surely Voldemort, himself.  
  
Once they were in the room, a pair of Death Eaters, apparently standing guard at the door, swung the panel shut. Harry scanned the room and saw Snape standing to one side of the great fireplace and Annwyl on the other. Directly before the blaze, his back turned to them, stood a tall, skeletally thin figure in sweeping black robes. The figure turned and though Harry expected no less, his spine stiffened in horror. Beside him, Ginny gasped. Voldemort merely gave what could only be a smile, though on a mouth so thin, so lipless, so malformed, it was a terrible sight.  
  
"Ah, Mr. Potter," the Dark Lord hissed with satisfaction, "please allow me to welcome you, at last."  
  
Harry stared up at the cold, red eyes. An echo of a conversation spoke in Harry's mind as the thing before them looked over Ginny and Harry like newly acquired playthings. "Ginny, don't talk to him or even look at him. Think about something else. Anything else. Just don't talk to him." He glanced over at the girl beside him. Her face was pale but her eyes were downcast as she murmured something under her breath. Harry couldn't make out what she was saying, but at least she was looking away from Voldemort.  
  
"Excellent advice, Mr. Potter. It is a great pity you weren't nearby to help Miss Weasley's brother in the same way. How different it all might have been." Harry didn't answer. "Though really," Voldemort continued, "I very much doubt Percy Weasley would have been at all grateful to you just at that time."  
  
The emaciated figure began to stalk around the room, slowly circling closer to where Harry and Ginny stood in the center. He paused and moved in closer to Ginny, listening as she continued to recite something under her breath.  
  
"Of course, Miss Weasley, you will need a distraction somewhat more effective than the glossary from your standard Potions text." Again, he gave that awful farce of a smile. "However, I had rather hoped you'd be eager to chat. There was a time we were rather close, were we not... Ginny?" Ginny's eyes flicked up to Voldemort's face and back to the floor. "Go on then, Ginny. Ask me. You want to know all about your brother, don't you?"  
  
Voldemort circled the pale, silent girl then nodded, as if satisfied. Turning his attention to Harry, Voldemort fixed him with an intense stare. Harry squared his shoulders to return the look but was struck, suddenly, by a searing flash of pain along his scar. He gritted his teeth to keep from crying out as his knees buckled. As quickly as it had come, the pain vanished. Panting and shaking, Harry struggled to his feet, his face flushed with anger.  
  
Mustering as much bravado as he could, Harry spoke coldly, "What is it you want then, Voldemort? If you wanted to kill me, you could have done that long ago." A jet of purple sparks from Malfoy's wand struck the back of Harry's head with a stinging smack.  
  
"Watch yourself, Potter. The Dark Lord's name is not for your filthy mouth."  
  
"That will be enough, Young Malfoy. Your loyalty is commendable but you overstep. You will keep silent." Voldemort returned his attention to Harry. "That pain was a reminder, Mr. Potter. A reminder that no matter what skills you may believe you have acquired in Occlumency, you are never able to truly shut me from your mind."  
  
Having apparently completed his close scrutiny of Harry and Ginny, Voldemort returned to the hearth and seated himself in a large armchair. "Despite your distinct lack of good manners, Potter, your question is a valid one. Well might you be confused, as I have, for some time, been intent upon your destruction." He leaned back in his chair, his long, thin, white fingers steepled under his chin. "I discovered something, however, the last time we met. When I entered your mind, Harry Potter, I was quite surprised to meet with so much of myself."  
  
"Well, whose fault would that be, then?" Harry responded. He knew he was treading on thin ice, but it was almost as if his tongue had a mind of its own.  
  
"Such cheek," Voldemort chuckled. Harry decided that sound was even more unpleasant than the smile had been. "It came to me that destroying you would be an astonishing waste. Instead, I have been watching and preparing, waiting for an opportunity to present itself."  
  
Harry glanced at Ginny. She was no longer reciting under her breath, but had a settled look of loathing and revulsion on her face as she stared almost aggressively at Voldemort. Harry hoped she would keep her famous temper in check, as it was unlikely that any outburst from her would be found amusing. He knew that their situation was as desperate as it had ever been and that if there was to be any hope of survival, he must pull himself together and concentrate. That thought caused him to shoot a look at Annwyl. He could almost hear her telling him to focus. He growled under his breath.  
  
"Well, so what are we waiting for now, then? What is it you plan to do?" Harry was feeling the panic well up into his throat. What was Voldemort going to do? What was he waiting for? "I'd love to wait around here with you, only I've got some Bubotuber pus I'd rather be drinking."  
  
This time, the blow wasn't from a spell but from Draco Malfoy's fist. He struck Harry just below and behind his left ear, making it seem the top of his head was likely to fly off from the force of the impact. Harry staggered forward, but kept on his feet.  
  
"I warned you once, whelp." Voldemort's voice was flat, almost bored. "That is once more than you are entitled. _Cruico_!" Behind Harry, Malfoy fell to the ground with a heavy thud, screaming. Seconds later, the curse was removed but Draco remained on the floor, gasping and retching. "Your father was too lax, boy. Your lack of obedience is a great danger when mixed with so weak an intellect. Much more, and you shall be a positive detriment to me."  
  
Harry no longer tried to fool himself that he had any control over anything at this point. He could feel the shaking in his legs, and his head and neck throbbed painfully from Malfoy's blow. He chanced a look at Snape, looking for some sign or clue. Surely, the man had a plan. Surely, he had managed to get word to the Order. There must be help on the way.  
  
Ginny stirred restlessly and Harry could tell she was about to speak. He wanted, desperately, to stop her, warn her that one wrong word could undo whatever tenuous hold Voldemort had and cause him to kill them instantly. If there was to be any chance for them at all, they needed to hold on, to watch and wait...  
  
"So, what did you do to my brother... Tom?" Ginny's voice was strident, overconfident. "What disgusting little game are you playing with him?"  
  
Voldemort rose and came forward as Harry hissed, "Stop it, Ginny! Don't be crazy."  
  
Voldemort's face was expressionless as he stopped a few steps from them. This time the silence was broken by Snape. "My Lord, the girl is of no use. I ask you allow me to punish her for her disgusting lack of respect. Allow me to do this to honor my Master."  
  
"My dear Severus," the thin, dry voice hissed, "For one such as you, I would be willing to grant much. However, the girl shall have her uses later on. To serve me now, perhaps you could be so good as to fetch your guests while I explain to Potter what we have in mind." The dark man bowed slightly and left the room in silence. "Miss Weasley," Voldemort continued, "I shall allow your behavior to pass unpunished this time, as I have reason to believe that when you receive your answer, you will greatly regret the asking."  
  
Harry was watching Annwyl out of the corner of his eye. Throughout the exchange, she had stood quietly, hardly even seeming to notice what was passing before her. Harry's seeker's eye detected a tiny, nervous sort of twitch of her left hand which was shoved deep in the pocket of her cloak. Now, she began watching the doorway through which Snape had disappeared.  
  
Voldemort moved so he was directly before Harry. "You are here, Potter, because I do not desire that your particular abilities be wasted. It would be most advantageous to me to have your magic at my disposal." Harry glared and opened his mouth to speak but was stopped by an upraised, gaunt hand. His tone suddenly became light and he once again paced the room. "Potter, you are a young man of peculiar talents. Perhaps you could tell Miss Weasley what happened to her brother." Harry blinked. He wasn't sure how to reply and his face must have shown it. "Come, come," Voldemort chided almost playfully, "surely you can take a guess. Despite their rather ham-fisted approach, Dumbledore's Order has learned something in recent months and I have every reason to believe you learned it as well."  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see the intense stare Annwyl had suddenly turned on him. He squirmed a bit and furrowed his brow in concentration. Dumbledore had told the Order about the suspicion that the soul-imposition magic was a modified form of Legilimency. But Harry had often wondered why the Imperius charm wouldn't be sufficient. Why go to the extra trouble?  
  
"Well?" The Dark Lord's voice began to sound impatient. "Speak, boy!"  
  
"I'd imagine it has something to do with your foul soul-imposition magic," Harry blurted out, finally goaded into a reply. In the corner, Annwyl nodded slightly, her eyes bright with some message Harry couldn't - wouldn't - understand.  
  
"Go on, Potter, go on," was the only reply.  
  
Harry was saved answering by the re-entrance of Snape. The dark man strode into the room leading Ron and Hermione. They didn't wear manacles like Harry and Ginny, but their arms were bound tightly with magical bindings and they wore heavy gags in their mouths. Harry winced and saw Ginny flinch as well, as they entered. Behind them, wand trained on their backs, came Percy Weasley. Again, just on the edge of his periphery vision, Harry saw Annwyl stir, her gaze flicking meaningfully between Harry and Percy.  
  
"Ah, our guests. Severus, bring them in and bind their feet. We don't want them to miss any of our conversation." Snape bowed slightly and motioned to Percy, who prodded Ron and Hermione into place. Once they stood facing Harry and Ginny, Percy shot more bindings out of the tip of his wand, wrapping tightly around their lower legs. Voldemort turned back to Harry. "Now, Potter, you were going to continue your explanation of how Mr. Weasley, here, came to be in my service."  
  
Harry was watching Percy closely, but Percy merely stared back, awareness but no recognition in his face. He looked gaunt and gray compared to his appearance in Hogsmeade when Harry had last seen him. Even his infamous Weasley hair seemed dull and pale next to Ron and Ginny.  
  
"You've put him under Imperius, haven't you?" It was Ginny who spoke, her bravado much shaken by the appearance of her brothers - one tightly bound, the other, blank and washed out.  
  
"No, no," Voldemort replied a trifle impatiently. "Nothing so uninspired as that. No, Percy is too valuable to me for a mere Imperius. Do you begin to understand, Potter?"  
  
With a cold, creeping sensation, Harry did begin to understand. He remembered the conversation he had in the headmaster's office months back when Snape had suggested Percy's soul had been tampered with. He shuddered and looked at Percy, at Snape and back to Percy. Yes. He understood.  
  
"You've found a way to control the soul of someone who hasn't been kissed," whispered Harry, weakly. "You've possessed him."  
  
"You are but half right, Potter." Voldemort paused before Hermione, examining her like a specimen under glass before resuming his ceaseless patrol about the room. "I have not possessed Percy Weasley."  
  
Harry saw Hermione's eyes widen above her gag as she understood what had happened to Percy and he shared her fear. If Voldemort had found a way to control the soul of a person, this would be more complete than any Imperius curse ever cast. Harry swallowed hard. "So you've taken over Percy's soul."  
  
Red eyes brightened in a wasted visage. "Yes, indeed. Quite effective and quite permanent. Unlike the Imperius, this magic cannot be undone. Imagine my pleasure when I discovered how complete was the control it gave me. And then, when I discovered the amazing ancillary benefit..."  
  
Percy turned to face Ron and raised his wand. From the opposite side of the room, Voldemort spoke, "_Crucio_!" but it was Percy's wand which fired the curse. Ron screamed horribly despite the gag, dropping to the floor in a tangle of limbs and magical bindings. Hermione and Ginny were screaming, too, but Harry was speechless in horror. Voldemort controlled not just Percy's soul but all of Percy's magical powers and abilities.  
  
"That's why you haven't killed us," Harry spoke into the sudden silence after the curse was lifted. "You want to control our magic. Can you drain it, too? Is that what you plan to do?"  
  
This time it was Ginny who spoke up. "That's sick! Is that what you did to my brother? Is it?" In her anger, she managed to shuffle forward, despite the shackles. "You are disgusting, you know that? There's something foul on the bottom of my shoe that stuck there from the floor of that cellar you had us in and you know, I think it has more charm!"  
  
Before Harry could shout out a warning, Voldemort whipped his wand toward her. "_Crucio_!" Ginny screamed and dropped to the floor, writhing and twisting in a mad attempt to escape the pain. Seconds later, he dropped the curse and swept forward, grabbing Ginny by the collar of her robes and lifting her so her toes just brushed the floor. She hung there, gasping and twitching, tears mixing with dirt from the floor and making dirty tracks down her cheeks. Still, her eyes met his with a defiant look.  
  
"I told Snape you would be useful to me later, little girl, but do not delude yourself. You are not indispensable." He dropped her and returned to his seat at the fire. She struggled back to her feet and nodded slightly to Harry who was looking at her fearfully. As quickly as his rage had come, it was gone and he returned his attention to Harry. "Well done, Potter. You are not as hopeless as your Professor Snape has often led me to believe. I think, perhaps, you know now, why you are here."  
  
A quiet voice spoke from the corner of the room, causing everyone to start badly. "Tom, you really are becoming quite devious. Whatever shall I do with you?" Dumbledore stepped out of the shadows next to an empty bookcase. Death Eaters standing guard around the rooms stirred nervously, wands drawn. Harry stood with his mouth gaping.  
  
"Ah, Dumbledore," Voldemort declared, expansively. "I'm delighted you could make it. I began to fear you would miss everything. As it is, you are just in time for a most interesting demonstration. After, I will be delighted to, er, discuss, anything you wish."  
  
Harry started to speak, to give some warning, but before he could do more than open his mouth, a wave of cold struck him. His surroundings melted away and images flooded his mind. Once again, he saw Sirius falling back through the veil, the strange look of surprise on his face. Dumbledore stood nearby watching wearing that same impassive expression. Ron and Hermione appeared, looking at Harry with disdain, even loathing, then turning to walk away. Remus crashed through some bushes in a dark forest, injured and bleeding, a look of fear on his normally calm features. These images played in Harry's mind over and over before the world returned with another rush of cold. Harry dropped to the floor, exhausted.  
  
Harry could hear Ginny calling his name and muffled sounds of Ron and Hermione saying something. Voldemort was also talking, as was Snape. Even Malfoy seemed to be speaking. It was chaos all around him, but somehow, he couldn't collect himself to see what it was all about. Slowly, feeling began to return to him, but the emotion was all anger and confusion. Harry got to his feet and looked around, dazedly. Ginny was staring at him, her eyes large in her pale face. Hermione and Ron were staring at a group of people huddled in the corner. A figure was on the ground among them, but Harry couldn't make out who it was. Annwyl's attention was also directed toward the group and Harry noticed that Snape and Malfoy were among the knot of people.  
  
"Where is Voldemort?" Harry hissed at Ginny. Ginny gestured toward the crowd in the corner with a jerk of her head. "And Dumbledore?" Harry shuddered at the rush of anger which accompanied that name.  
  
"He's the one on the floor over there, Harry," Ginny answered, her eyes fearful. "He collapsed right when you did."  
  
"Enough!" Voldemort burst from among the collected Death Eaters and into the middle of the room. "Leave him. I shall deal with him later. In fact, I do believe young Potter might have a score or two to settle with his headmaster himself after a bit."  
  
Harry could feel anger like a knot inside him, pulling ever tighter. Snape moved away from Dumbledore's inert form and took a place near his master. Malfoy returned to his spot behind Harry and Ginny, a nasty grin on his face. Harry watched as everyone resumed their places. Dumbledore was reduced to just another old man, to be 'dealt with' later at the Dark Lord's convenience. He had failed Harry, failed them all, again just as he had Sirius.  
  
"Now Harry," Voldemort spoke softly, almost a purr, "you really have no other option, have you? This was inevitable, as you can see. There was never really any other possible outcome, now was there?" Harry struggled to keep hold of his thoughts, but he could feel his mind whirling. "Come, Harry. Concentrate on my voice. Let my words into your mind. Do not struggle so." Harry felt his scar begin to prickle and itch. There was a buzzing in his ears. "Relax, Harry. Release yourself. Have you never heard that in the center of the maze, all direction is lost?"  
  
The knot inside Harry loosened slightly. He could feel the tension within him slowly release. It would be so easy... he could let go... Dumbledore was useless... Dumbledore didn't care... not about Sirius and not about him... Dumbledore was cold and distant and unmoved... He just didn't care... Ron and Hermione didn't need him... They just walked away... Ginny blamed him... he could let go... so easy...  
  
"HARRY!" Annwyl's voice cut through the haze in Harry's mind like a flash of steel. "Focus, Harry! FOCUS!" Harry felt the manacles around his wrists giving way. "Harry, listen to me! You must look at Sirius' death!" Annwyl tossed a milky white ball toward him and he reached out to catch it automatically. "Now, Harry! Look at the memory! NOW!"  
  
Once again, it was chaos around Harry. Curses flashed around the room as Ginny, Ron and Hermione cowered on the floor, bound and wandless. Annwyl's reflexes which Harry had so admired months ago seemed to be serving her well. Though she had clearly been struck once or twice, she was still fighting, dodging behind furniture and people. Harry stared at the Contemplation Sphere and realized, dully, that it was his own. Absently, he wondered how she happened to have it with her.  
  
"Harry, move! Get down! Do something!" Ginny was screaming over the bedlam around them.  
  
Harry looked at her blankly and back to the sphere in his hands. _Focus_, he told himself, _get hold of yourself. What do you have to do?_ The only thought that came to him was Sirius. He held the sphere out in front of him, balancing it on his palms. Around him, the battle raged on, but he knew nothing of how Annwyl might be surviving such a mess. Though only seconds had passed, Harry had a sensation of timelessness as he stared into the ball.  
  
"_Memorare_ Sirius' death!"  
  
The milky contents swirled and resolved into a small view of the room where the veiled archway was. Harry saw the red jet from Bellatrix Black's wand strike Sirius in the chest. He saw the look of surprise on his godfather's face. Then, he saw something he never had before. Dumbledore. Dumbledore appearing opposite the veil and running toward the dais. Horror etched the old face as he extended his wand, a spell on his lips. As Sirius fell back through the veil and vanished, Harry could see Dumbledore's lips forming a word. 'No.'  
  
The image faded to milky white and Harry dropped the sphere, shattering it into shards like a mosaic on the floor at his feet. A small cloud of white rose and dissipated.  
  
"VOLDEMORT!" Harry felt rage now as he never had before. Not in Dumbledore's office after Sirius died, not in the common room arguing with Ginny, not in any of his dealings with Snape or Malfoy. This was a rage so great, so pure, there was no containing it. "I will not be your slave! You will not fool me again! YOU planted those visions!"  
  
"FOCUS, HARRY!" Annwyl was screaming from behind the bookcase where Dumbledore had appeared.  
  
The air crackled and flashed. Those Death Eaters still standing crouched down, looking about them in confusion. The flashes of light began to coalesce and a hum sounded in the room. Harry stood in the center, his fists clenched at his sides, his gaze locked on the pulsing light forming above his head.  
  
Snape moved over to his master. "My Lord, if Dumbledore was able to find us, the Order cannot be far behind."  
  
Harry heard more conversation but didn't understand any of it. The light had grown quite large and had turned a brilliant silver. Taking a deep breath, Harry let go of the last shred of his control over his magic. The light splintered with an almighty shriek, sending arrows of silver whizzing around the room. There was a piercing flash and then the light disappeared.  
  
Harry looked around briefly at the scattered bodies on the floor. He tried to walk toward one, to see if the person was alive, but his eyes rolled back in his head and he dropped to the floor.  
  
Harry opened his eyes slowly to find Hermione and Ginny hanging over him, worriedly.  
  
"Oh thank goodness," Hermione breathed. "Harry can you sit up?" He nodded slightly and reached out to take her hand as Ginny took his other arm. "We've got to get out of here, Harry. Annwyl is the only one with a wand and she's in no shape to do much fighting at this point."  
  
"How long was I out?" asked Harry, rubbing a shaky hand over his face.  
  
"Only a couple minutes," replied Ginny. "C'mon. Can you stand if we help you?"  
  
The girls heaved him to his feet. His knees were shaky and every muscle in his body screamed in fatigue, but Harry shook off the girls' hands. He looked around the room questioningly. "What happened?"  
  
"It was you, Harry," Annwyl said, stepping over the slack form of a Death Eater. "I think I can explain, but it had better be later. We'd better get out of here before the Dark Lord decides to come back to play." She turned the unconscious Death Eater over with the toe of her boot. Leaning down, she slid the wand from his grasp and handed it to Ron. Going to another, she repeated the action, giving a wand to Hermione. "These won't be as good, of course, but for now, it'll have to do."  
  
"Annwyl, where's Percy?" Ginny asked.  
  
Ron came to her and dropped an arm around her shoulders. "He didn't make it, Gin. That last weird flash of light just made him drop like a stone." Harry froze in shock. His flash of light.  
  
Ginny's head bowed and Harry could see tears on her cheeks. After a moment, she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "I want his wand." Ron started to protest, but Annwyl only nodded. Going to Percy's body, she retrieved the wand and tossed it to Ginny who looked at it thoughtfully. "Alright," Ginny said, "let's get out of here."  
  
"Right. Ron, I need you to help Harry. I don't think he's got much strength just now. Hermione, can you levitate the headmaster?" Annwyl turned to Ginny. "I want to you cover us from behind. Use any hex, jinx or curse you know."  
  
They crept out of the now decimated room and down the hallway. Annwyl paused at every doorway, peering around for any Death Eaters. Ron followed, his hand on Harry's arm, steadying him. Hermione came behind them, with the still unconscious Dumbledore floating along beside her. Ginny brought up the rear, as Annwyl had instructed, looking ready to curse into at least a thousand pieces, anything that moved.  
  
The silence of the old house held until they reached the bottom of the staircase. Off to one side, down a short hallway, they could hear some light scuffing from behind a door. Annwyl signaled to the others for silence and motioned them to wait at the staircase. Moving lightly, she approached the door.  
  
"_Alohamora_," she whispered and the door clicked open. Pushing the panel back with her foot, Annwyl lit her wand and looked inside. "Remus!" She darted in and seconds later emerged, supporting a very bedraggled Remus Lupin.  
  
"Hullo, everyone," Remus smiled thinly. "A party, is it, then?" His head lolled forward and his weight sagged on Annwyl.  
  
"Oh bugger," she breathed. "What in the world have they done to him?" With a sigh she levitated him and turned again to the front door of the house. "C'mon. The sooner we're out of here, the better I'll like it."  
  
Just as they reached the door and swung it open, a flurry of popping sounds came from the trees on either side of the front lawn. Annwyl stepped forward quickly, wand above her head. "_Lumos_!" Light bathed the group huddled behind her. "It's alright everyone. Come out. I've got them." Figures emerged from the trees and ran toward them. Arthur and Molly Weasley were the first to reach the group but the others were not far behind.  
  
"Oh, good gracious! We were so worried!"  
  
"Albus! Remus! What in Merlin's name...?"  
  
"King, bring them over here. We've got Portkeys."  
  
In only a few moments, it was all over. Several Portkeys appeared from pockets of various robes and the whole group was whisked away, landing in an awkward bunch in the center of the hospital ward at Hogwarts. By now, Harry was too exhausted to take in another thing and his last conscious sight was of Madame Pomfrey steaming toward them in full battle array, Professor McGonagall hurrying behind her. After that, it was all blessed darkness. 


	19. Redoublement

Disclaimer: see previous chapters  
  
Author's Notes: This is it, folks. The very end. My best luv and affection to Moriah S., my incomparable beta. And to you, all my reviewers, my undying devotion. Your comments have meant so much and have been very greatly appreciated. I hope you have all enjoyed this as much as I have. It has been a great ride!  
  
HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND  
  
Chapter 19 - Redoublement  
  
Redoublement: a new action that follows an attack that missed or was parried; renewal of a failed attack in the opposite line  
  
When Harry awoke, it was bright daylight again. In an automatic gesture, he groped with his left hand until it encountered his glasses on the bedside stand while his right hand slid under his pillow, seeking his wand. He came fully awake when he found glasses, but no wand. Grunting in surprise, Harry tried to sit up, only to flop back with a soft moan. Everything hurt.  
  
Moving slowly and carefully, Harry slid his glasses on and looked around, still squinting slightly. He was not surprised to find himself in the hospital wing at Hogwarts and memories of the previous evening (Was it just the previous evening? Harry wondered.) came back to him. Taking a deep breath, he tried again to lift himself into a sitting position. His muscles nearly shrieked with pain and fatigue, but with an effort that brought beads of perspiration to Harry's brow, he managed to lift his shoulders enough to bunch the pillow behind his head. From this somewhat elevated position, he looked around the ward.  
  
In the bed to his right lay Ron, snoring lightly. Directly across, Ginny slept also. It was obvious she had been awake at some point, for there were several opened cards propped on the table beside her and a half eaten bar of chocolate sat next to a large empty goblet. Next to Ginny, across from Ron, lay Remus. He didn't look as peaceful as the other two. The man's thin face was bruised and scratched and a bandage covered his temple over his left ear. His jaw had a strange lopsided, swollen appearance. Harry could see other bandages on Remus' arms and the blankets had been arranged to stay lifted from the right leg. Whatever the injury, it was more serious and still mending. Slouched in a chair at the head of Remus' bed, sat Annwyl. She was liberally bruised and bandaged as well, but still wore the torn and bloodied robes she'd had on when they Portkeyed back to Hogwarts. Presumably, she'd been staying with Remus.  
  
At the sight of her, Harry growled low in his throat and made another effort to rise. His efforts, however ineffectual, were checked by a gnarled hand on his arm. Harry started and looked to his right to see Albus Dumbledore seated beside him.  
  
"Yes, Harry. She has some things to answer for," the old man said quietly. "And so she shall. However, it would not do to disturb the others at this point. Let them rest and allow the explanations to wait a little." He smiled sadly at Harry. "Please, my boy. Sit back for a time."  
  
Harry sank back on his pillow, not answering and not taking his eyes from his professor's face. Dumbledore was uninjured, as far as Harry could see, but it was plain he was far from well. He was pale and the old hand shook as it drew back from Harry's arm and folded in the man's lap.  
  
"Professor, are you alright?" Harry asked softly. The sight of the man's weakness made the memories of his distrust very painful in Harry's mind. "I... That is, you..." Harry ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "You didn't look so good when I saw you last, sir," he finished, frankly.  
  
"I am well enough, thank you, Harry." Madame Pomfrey is fussing over some concoction even now." Dumbledore pulled a small face. "I'm sure she'll produce something dreadful-tasting to pull me up a bit. I'm afraid I haven't your stamina any longer." Harry frowned with worry, but Dumbledore shook his head. "No, Harry. Do not worry. I am confident I shall get the better of this."  
  
"Sir, can you tell me what happened?"  
  
The man frowned at his folded hands. "Unfortunately, Harry, I do not know what occurred. I have only just awakened myself and have not yet had the opportunity to speak with anyone." He glanced across the room at where Annwyl sat. "If you feel able, my boy, I would be grateful for anything you can tell me."  
  
So, Harry quietly related all he knew or had pieced together since he had come across Annwyl in the darkened corridor near Gryffindor tower. Dumbledore listened silently, asking no questions and making no comments. When Harry had finished, the silence stretched between them as Dumbledore seemed lost in thought.  
  
"Professor," Harry began, haltingly, then the words poured out with a rush. "I... I want to apologize. You see, I never thought to look at my contemplation sphere. Those lapses were so real, sir."  
  
"Do not blame yourself, Harry. It was a not unnatural reaction, especially given everything that occurred the night we lost Sirius." Sighing deeply, he sent another long look at Annwyl and Remus, then turned his gaze once again on Harry. He reached out and gripped Harry's hand. "I am uncomfortable with how near we came to another great loss last night. I'm sorry, Harry. I did try to keep you abreast of what we knew, but it was my error that put you in the hands of Severus Snape. I did believe I had good reason to trust him."  
  
Uncertain how to reply to this, Harry looked down at his headmaster's blue-lined hand. He really wanted to ask what the good reason had been to create such great faith in Snape, but he knew from past conversations, Dumbledore considered this personal information. Instead, he turned the conversation to his own uncontrolled magic.  
  
"Sir, do you know what I did to all those people?" Harry hesitated for a moment. "Are they all dead?"  
  
"No, Harry. Thankfully, they are not. They were quite unconscious, however, as I understand it from Arthur Weasley. Percy, on the other hand..." Dumbledore's voice trailed off and Harry winced. "I think I begin to understand why, however."  
  
Harry looked up again at Dumbledore, his eyes shadowed with pain and guilt. "You know why, how, I killed him?"  
  
"You didn't kill Percy, my boy," the old man answered gently. "That was Voldemort's doing. It would seem he has been draining Percy of his magic for some time. By the time you released your magic, I suspect there wasn't enough strength left in Percy to withstand the blow." He sat quietly for a moment, watching the others. "I find it most interesting that your magic did not touch any of your own party. Clearly, it was not wholly uncontrolled. Can you remember anything about it, Harry?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "No, sir. I remember being furious at Voldemort for tricking me again. And, I was pretty angry with myself. After that, I don't really remember what happened."  
  
A slight rustling drew their attention to the other side of the room. Remus was stirring fitfully, his eyes clamped tightly shut. Annwyl roused immediately and gently laying her hand across his forehead, murmured softly. Remus seemed to respond though his eyes remained tightly shut. "Wyl..." he sighed deeply and sank back into a more restful sleep. She glanced up then, seeing Harry and Dumbledore watching.  
  
"Albus, how good to see you up!" She smiled warmly and with a last look at Remus, rose gingerly and limped over to her godfather. "Are you sure Poppy said it was alright for you to be up?" she asked, taking his outstretched hand.  
  
"I am as fit to sit here as you, my dear," he answered, casting a shrewd look at her still-healing wounds. "I could easily ask the same question of you."  
  
Harry was looking on in angry astonishment. Hadn't Dumbledore heard what he'd said? This woman took them to Voldemort! Who cared about her injuries? What about Remus? Ron? Ginny? And where was Hermione? As far as Harry could see, it was all Annwyl's fault.  
  
"Harry, how are you feeling?" Annwyl turned to him, concern in her eyes. "You took quite a beating last night." Harry scowled but did not respond and Annwyl drew back slightly and looked back to Dumbledore. "Albus, I think Harry will be more comfortable with some explanations as soon as may be. However, I'd like the others to hear it all as well."  
  
"Yes, I do think it would be best for us to all be informed," her godfather replied, thoughtfully. "Annie, I ask that you wait in the dungeons until Remus has regained consciousness. I will awaken the others and summon Miss Granger at that time." Annwyl nodded, stealing a glance at Remus, and turned to go, pausing only to look back at Harry. Harry returned the look with a near snarl and Annwyl left with a sigh.  
  
"Harry, I think you should try to rest, now," said Dumbledore, softly. "I shall wake you when Remus awakens. Sleep now, my boy. There is nothing more to be done until we have all rested." With an encouraging pat on Harry's arm, the old man rose and, leaning heavily on his walking stick, slowly made his way from the ward.  
  
Harry lay for a bit, watching first Remus, then Ron, then Ginny, sleeping. Remus still looked awful, but Harry thought he could see some of the smaller bruises fading. Madame Pomfrey's charms and potions were taking effect. With that hopeful thought, Harry settled back to sleep.

Harry awoke to the sounds of conversation around him and sat up cautiously. To his relief, much of the aching was gone, though his arms and legs still felt a bit rubbery. Slipping on his glasses, he looked around the ward. Ron was up and sitting in a chair between Ginny's and Remus' beds. He looked a little pale, but otherwise well. Ginny was propped up on pillows and was pale as well, but her eyes were bright and she was smiling as she read a parchment Ron held out to her. Remus was awake as well, also propped up by several pillows. He didn't look as well as Ron or Ginny, but he was smiling as he listened to Ginny reading aloud.  
  
"Blimey. Don't any of you know how to cast an Imperturbable around you or something? How's a bloke to get any rest? " Harry said with mock severity.  
  
"Oi, Harry! You're awake. Sorry, mate. We were just reading an owl from Fred and George. They've sent this." Ron gestured to an enormous box of sweets at his feet. Ginny carried on reading aloud.  
  
"We'd like to drop by for a visit, siblings, but Madame Pomfrey will be mad as a hornet when she sees what you lot will be eating. We'll steer clear for now and see you in a few days." Ginny looked up from the parchment. "I wish they would come. I wish Bill and Charlie would come, too." Her face clouded and Ron grew silent. There was one Weasley who would never again be able to be there with them.  
  
Clearing his throat, Remus broke the uncomfortable silence. "Harry, have a good sleep? Dumbledore is sending for Hermione and Annwyl now and should be back in a moment." He gave Harry a grim smile. "Feel up to sorting through this mess?"  
  
"Sooner the better," Harry answered quietly. The words were no sooner spoken than the door to the ward swung open with a bang. Hermione pelted across the room and flung herself first at Ron, then Harry, Ginny, Remus and back to Ron.  
  
"Oh, you have no idea how good it is to see you lot awake," she exclaimed as she curled up on the foot of Ginny's bed. "Madame Pomfrey tossed me out last night while you were all still out cold. This is the first time I've been allowed back."  
  
"Well, it isn't as though you've missed much," Ginny shrugged. "What's been happening?"  
  
Hermione frowned slightly. "This morning's Prophet said there had been some attacks on several Muggle communities last night. One of the ministry Aurors swears he saw Bellatrix Lestrange leading a group of Death Eaters near Swansea." Both Remus and Harry stirred at this. "Apparently, most of them got away, though. The ministry is still trying to determine where the Death Eaters are organizing, but none of the captured will talk. They'd been checking that old Riddle place regularly, so Voldemort must've only used it last night."  
  
"Well, that explains why there weren't more of them around last night," Ron said. "They were off having their own little adventure." Turning to Remus he asked, "Why do you suppose they went off attacking Muggles just as Voldemort was making his move on Harry? To draw attention away from what he was doing?"  
  
Remus nodded. "That seems likely. Though, that hasn't been Voldemort's way in the past. The night he returned, he gathered an audience for his meeting with Harry." He grew thoughtful for a moment. "Unless..." He shook his head slightly as if to clear his thoughts. "At the Department of Mysteries last year, he nearly lost everything when Dumbledore arrived. If he was trying to draw the Order away to buy himself time, then he has a weakness he is hiding from us."  
  
"Indeed, Remus, I believe you are quite right," Dumbledore spoke from the doorway. He entered slowly, still leaning heavily on his walking stick as he resumed a seat beside Harry's bed. "You know that when he returned, he had to assume a mortal body. I believe this fact has come home to him, and he is worried."  
  
"Sir, what exactly happened last night?" asked Ginny. "What happened to Percy?"  
  
"I think I'd better answer your questions, Ginny," Annwyl announced as she entered. Sitting down beside Remus, she looked down at him and smiled. "You're looking better. You gave us quite a scare last night."  
  
"I'm fine now, Wyl. But thank goodness you lot found me. Go on, then. Can you really tell us what has been going on?"  
  
Annwyl looked around the room at their expectant faces. Her gaze rested on her godfather, briefly, before she straightened up, drawing her chair slightly away from Remus' bed.  
  
"Alright, perhaps I should explain a bit about why I know what happened," she said carefully. Taking a deep breath, she stared down at her hands, folded in her lap. "As you know, I was an auror for the ministry when I disappeared fifteen years ago. Technically, I think I still am. That is, I've never received orders to cease my undercover operation." She glanced up at the small sounds of surprise from her listeners. "You see, my disappearance was staged by an extremely secretive section of the Auror Corps. We had reason to believe that even though Voldemort seemed to have disappeared after attacking Harry, there were those of his Death Eaters who intended to carry on his fight." She glanced at Dumbledore. "Our information came from someone who was to be relied upon."  
  
"So, you went undercover to find Death Eaters?" Ron looked puzzled. "Weren't you gone rather a long time for that?"  
  
"My cover was to be very deep, indeed. I appeared to die so the wizarding world wouldn't be looking for me. I resurfaced as a different sort of person. One who could get into the ranks of those intent upon following Voldemort. I had to appear to be betraying my godfather."  
  
"But, we rounded them up," protested Remus. "Eventually, even his hard core supporters admitted he was gone. Where were you?"  
  
"I was there, Remus, I assure you. In fact, my cover was nearly blown the night you passed along the information that led the Ministry to the Lestranges and Crouch Jr. Only three of us escaped that night."  
  
Harry sat up straighter in his bed as the implications of her words struck him. "You knew! You knew what they had done and you hid with them!" His voice grew louder and he shook with anger. "I don't care about your mission! You bloody well should have turned them in!" You know what they did to Neville's parents!"  
  
"Harry, please," Dumbledore spoke quietly. "Shouting is hardly helpful." But his eyes were questioning as he looked at his goddaughter.  
  
"Wyl," Remus said, slowly, "Why did you say 'only three of us escaped'? Where do you fit into this?"  
  
She looked at each of them carefully. "Remus, I did say my cover was to be very deep. I had to take some steps to ensure my acceptance."  
  
"B..but, you can't be a Death Eater," stuttered Hermione, her eyes wide in fear. "Voldemort was already gone. You don't have a Dark Mark. You were just pretending, right?"  
  
Annwyl didn't answer, but stared fixedly at her lap. Harry shifted uncomfortably and Ron looked a little pale. But, it was Ginny who spoke.  
  
"You do have a Mark. You really are a Death Eater. And if you have a Mark, this whole story is a lie and you went to Voldemort before he tried to kill Harry!"  
  
"No!" Annwyl's voice was sharp. "I have been spying for the Order. Not long after my 'disappearance' the man who assigned me to the job was killed in a freak accident with an illegal dragon hide shipment. To preserve security, he had told no one else. By then, I was too deeply into the cover to make contact with just anyone, so I began contacting Albus." She looked over at the headmaster, sitting silent all this time. "You knew, didn't you?"  
  
"I suspected," he answered calmly. "However, I could not be certain. Nor could I safely investigate. If I had drawn any attention to you, you would surely have been killed. I had no choice but to trust you."  
  
Harry thought back to the night Annwyl arrived, injured, on Private Drive. Only now did he notice that Dumbledore's response to Annwyl's reappearance was unusual. He hadn't had any trouble with her reappearance. His emotional response was to her injuries. Harry suddenly wished for his Contemplation Sphere.  
  
"So, you aren't really a Death Eater," Harry began doubtfully, "because you don't actually have a Dark Mark."  
  
"But, I do."  
  
Remus' sharply indrawn breath cut off any reply from the others. Harry looked over at the older man in concern as he struggled to raise himself a bit. Remus' eyes were hard and the stare he fixed on Annwyl almost burned. "Wyl, what are you saying? What... how... How could you?"  
  
"Must I say it again? I was deeply undercover, Remus. I had to, when he returned two years ago."  
  
"But, we looked," Ron interjected. "We used Harry's Contemplation Sphere and looked at his memory of that dinner when you and Snape both left the table early. There is no mark on your arm."  
  
Annwyl smiled a thin, grim smile. "Quite thorough, you lot. No, it isn't on my arm. The Dark Lord doesn't like to mark women on the arm. He says it mars their beauty..." Turning her shoulders a bit, Annwyl lifted the heavy mass of her hair from her shoulders and neck. Harry couldn't suppress a gasp at the sight of a Dark Mark burned into the flesh at the nape of her neck, just at the hairline.  
  
"Okay, that must have really hurt," muttered Ginny, rubbing the back of her neck absently.  
  
"I'm sorry, but I still don't understand," Hermione said with a frown. "You aren't a Death Eater, but you have a Mark. You were undercover, but no one at the Ministry knew it. You've been reporting to the headmaster for fifteen years and he wasn't entirely sure it was you. Is that what you're asking us to believe?"  
  
"Right in one, Hermione. That little scuffle with the 'gentleman' from Hufflepuff at the beginning of my sixth year set the stage for my undercover work a few years later. Wilfred Nott wasn't particularly ambitious, or even very bright, but he was quite loyal to his pureblood family and heritage and he was willing to work for them. I think he was the only one of his family ever to be sorted into Hufflepuff. The others have been Slytherin for as far back as anyone can remember.  
  
"Well, he approached me, trying to recruit me to Voldemort's merry little band. He thought he'd have quite a reward in store if he managed to bring Dumbledore's goddaughter to the Dark Lord." Annwyl touched the scar on her wrist lightly. "I didn't think much of the suggestion, actually. However, a few years later, when I needed a cover, I found Wilfred and told him I'd changed my mind. He was the one that flashed around some light while I disappeared during the raid."  
  
Everyone was quiet for a few moments as they considered all this. Ginny, once again, was the one to break the silence.  
  
"You said you could tell us what has been going on. What happened to Percy?"  
  
"Yes, well..." Annwyl hesitated. "This isn't a quick or pleasant story." She met Ginny's eye. "However, I do think you should know.  
  
"I had been working closely with a reconnaissance group, gathering information on the Ministry actions. However, early last summer, Voldemort reassigned me to begin research on charms related to Legilimency and Occlumency. My Tranfiguration skills may not be above average, but my Charms are quite good, if I do say so."  
  
Then, you should know exactly how the soul imposition magic works," Ron stated flatly. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"  
  
"Because it wasn't as simple as that, Ron. I don't know exactly how it works. Typical of any large scale project, Voldemort had a number of people working on the research. None of us were aware of the entire plan so no one could be caught and forced to expose what he was up to. However, I did a little, er, probing and by midsummer I had figured out enough of what was going on that I felt it was time to change my tactics somewhat."  
  
"And that's when you showed up on Privet Drive," said Harry. "But why? Wouldn't it look like you were defecting?"  
  
"Yes. That was the plan, of course. I suggested to Voldemort that I would have better access to information if I had access to the Hogwarts library and to Professor Flitwick. Still, it had to be convincing, so no one was made aware of what I had done." Annwyl grimaced a little. "Of course, I wasn't aware that Voldemort was going to make it quite as realistic as he did. He set one of his early experiments with soul imposition on me as I reached Little Whinging. Unfortunately, Hestia Jones heard the scuffle and came running. You know the rest."  
  
"And so, you were back inside Hogwarts and the Order," Remus said softly. His voice was calm but Harry could see the tension along his jaw and the cool expression of his usually mild eyes. Annwyl must have sensed it too, for she looked at him for a long moment before speaking.  
  
"Yes, I was back. Remus, I would have liked to have told you sooner... You know I couldn't." Clearing her throat, she turned back to the others. "So, I told Albus what I knew and he helped me keep my cover. I made mistakes, though. I thought I could just tell the Order about the sham werewolves and let them get on with that while I searched for the traitor I knew must be in residence here. Some of the information Voldemort had been getting was too accurate for any report the Order would have Snape make. Too detailed. I was convinced there was someone else on the inside. I was right, too."  
  
"Malfoy!" Hermione exclaimed. "He practically told Harry as much months ago. He said he'd been following Harry about, waiting for a chance to get him."  
  
"Malfoy." Annwyl snorted with derision. "Believe me, he'd very much like you to believe he was the spy, but the truth is, he hasn't the brains. Oh, he does well enough in lessons, but he just isn't clever. He's a hothead as well. No, it seems there were two actual spies in addition to the annoyance Draco was able to create. One was Peter Pettigrew."  
  
"That rotten bas-" Remus began angrily.  
  
"Now, now," Dumbledore interrupted mildly. "Compose yourself Remus. You mustn't tax your strength." The man's words were calm but his voice was flinty. "Annwyl, what was he doing here?"  
  
"Much of the time, he was looking after Draco. The boy was really a menace to himself with his obsession over revenging his father on Harry. But he did have a few little tasks. His Animagus form allowed him to slip around the castle undetected. He gathered a great deal of information that way."  
  
"I do not understand," Dumbledore said frowning. "The wards were altered to detect Animagi."  
  
"They were altered by Snape, weren't they, Albus?" Annwyl asked. One look at her expression and Harry realized the implication in her words.  
  
"Snape set the wards so Wormtail could still get through," Harry said in disbelief. "Snape was the second spy, after all."  
  
Annwyl nodded. "So it would seem. I only wish I had found out sooner."  
  
"When did you find out, Wyl?" Remus' expression was still hard, but his voice had softened a bit.  
  
"Only two days ago. The afternoon he took Ron and Hermione."  
  
"Yeah, I have to admit, I still don't get that," Ron spoke up. "Snape said to trust him and we'd be able to get Remus and Draco back safely. I really thought he was just pretending to kidnap us."  
  
Annwyl shook her head. "Let me explain from the beginning. It was Halloween before Voldemort figured out how to impose his will on an undamaged soul. The trouble was, he still needed the individual's cooperation." She met Ginny's eye. "Percy was promised a lot of power if he would cooperate. He'd been going down that path for quite awhile, I'm afraid." Ginny nodded, her eyes swimming. Annwyl sighed and continued. "At that point, I still didn't know just what Voldemort was planning to do. As far as I could tell, he still planned to kill Harry as soon as possible. My new assignment was to help Voldemort trap and use an Order member. If he could impose one of Albus' own, the devestation would be considerable. I stalled about it as much as I could, but on the night of the attack on the werewolf sanctuary, I got an owl insisting that I stick to the assignment and provide a name and a preliminary plan by the New Year."  
  
Harry nodded. "I saw you get that. It fell out of your pocket and I picked it up."  
  
"Why didn't you tell someone, Harry?" Remus asked, reprovingly.  
  
"I didn't think anyone would believe me. Actually, I did try to tell Professor Dumbledore, but that was the afternoon he first got sick." He turned to the headmaster. "I'm sorry, sir. I should have said something."  
  
"It is alright, Harry. As it happens, Annwyl did tell me that she was dealing with some intrigue that might involve the Order. She had already promised to come to me if anything new developed."  
  
"Yes, about that illness, Albus," Annwyl said speculatively. "I may have some thoughts about that. Draco Malfoy let something slip that might be useful to us. Harry, do you remember the water carafe you brought to Albus for analysis?" Harry nodded and Hermione started to speak, but Annwyl silenced her with a gesture. "I know nothing was found but that wasn't supposed to be the case. You see, there was supposed to be a poison in it." Annwyl scowled. "Malfoy's brilliant plan. He sent Peter into the tower and the dorm in his Animagus form. He was supposed to poison your water carafe and get out again without anyone being the wiser. However, Peter knew that Voldemort would be furious if anything happened to you before he had a crack at you. It was Peter's job to keep Malfoy in check, so he pretended to go in. He knocked things about once inside so you would wake up. Once you began warding the dorm, Malfoy had to drop his crazy scheme."  
  
"But what does that have to do with Professor Dumbledore's illness?" Hermione questioned. "Don't tell me Malfoy poisoned the headmaster."  
  
"No, I don't see how he could. But, I do think that Albus' attacks are not coincidental." Annwyl turned to her godfather. "Albus, have you noticed a pattern in these attacks?"  
  
Dumbledore thought for a moment. "They have generally occurred during some critical moment. What do you have in mind, Annie?"  
  
"Well, your first attack was at the end of a particularly intense Occlumency lesson for Harry, wasn't it? And you were rather peaky again right at Christmas, just a few days after the first incident." Dumbledore nodded for her to continue. "And then, there was the attack on Hogsmeade." She glanced at Harry. "Then, last night... Albus, what have you been doing to defend Harry?"  
  
Harry's eyes widened in surprise. Defend? Dumbledore hadn't been doing anything particular that Harry could see. He had been setting the wards on the dorm and tower himself for months. He was learning Occlumency and Dumbledore hadn't even been the instructor. What could Annwyl suspect? Harry turned a questioning look on his professor.  
  
"It is a little complicated to explain," the headmaster murmured to his wide-eyed audience. "You see, I was aware of the strained relationship between Professor Snape and Harry. I wanted Severus to be the one to teach him Occlumency because of his extensive experience with Voldemort. He could give Harry information I could not. However, I didn't desire a repeat of last years attempts." He smiled at Harry apologetically. "I interwove one of the facets of Legilimency with a tracking charm. The result was a mental alarm that went off when Harry was subjected to mental intrusion."  
  
Harry spluttered indignantly. "Sir, you were in my mind without telling me?"  
  
"No, Harry. I wasn't, I assure you. It was merely a small nudge to alert me to any problem you might be having. It did not enable me to enter your mind. I didn't set the charm at first. In fact, it wasn't until we found you were able to influence Percy Weasley during your vision on Halloween. After that, I felt more comfortable keeping watch over you."  
  
Annwyl nodded. "Then, that's it. Albus, I think I know what is causing your problem and why you are getting weaker with every incident. Whenever Harry has a vision, lapse or mental attack from Voldemort, you are thrown into overload and collapse. Has Poppy tested you for toxins?" The headmaster nodded. "Using a scan with her wand or has she actually taken a blood sample?"  
  
"Wyl, you know that isn't Medi-magic," Remus objected. "Blood- letting is strictly Muggle practice."  
  
"Yes, but there are times when that practice can be quite effective. You see, I think someone has slipped Abyssinian Shrivelfig skin into something Albus has eaten or drunk. As you know, the fruit is quite a useful potion ingredient, but the skin has highly toxic properties which can cause synaptic overloads during times of increased mental activity. Victims literally think themselves to death. That toxin can only be detected by an examination of the blood itself."  
  
"But how did he get the poison?" Ginny asked. "Surely the house elves wouldn't do such a thing and they handle all the food and drink around here."  
  
"Snape," Harry answered flatly. "He must have had loads of chances to slip it into your tea or something, sir."  
  
"Quite so," Dumbledore answered thoughtfully. "Well, when we have finished here, I shall pay Poppy a visit."  
  
"Don't wait longer than that, Albus," Annwyl warned. The effects are cumulative and after last night, you've had quite enough to bring about permanent damage."  
  
"But what about my lapses?" Harry asked. "My scar wasn't hurting so it couldn't have been Voldemort."  
  
"No," agreed Annwyl. "That was something else I learned that night just before you were taken. Snape had been planting suggestions and triggers in your mind during your lessons. I'm afraid he was using some of the charms I had been researching for Voldemort over the summer. He had the perfect excuse to access your mind and he wouldn't trigger the discomfort in your scar. Voldemort directed it all, of course, but it was Snape who caused the lapses."  
  
"Why?" Ron had been silent some time, his eyes trained with clear distrust on Annwyl. "Why would V...Vol...You-Know-Who bother with that?"  
  
"You tell me, Ron," Annwyl answered. "When you play Chess, is your first move an attack on the king?"  
  
Ron considered this for a moment. "So, all those lapses, visions, dreams and whatnot were to weaken Harry's defenses?"  
  
"Quite so. You see, Harry's greatest strength, apart from his magic, is the affection of his friends and his strong feelings for them. Voldemort needed Harry to submit willingly to the soul imposition. He had to make Harry too weak to fight. Snape's Occlumency lessons with Harry gave ample opportunities for checking progress. Snape is very powerful and though Harry may have been learning, he would have been able to read Harry like a book, if he chose."  
  
"Then, why kidnap Ron and me?" Hermione wanted to know. "Wouldn't that have made Harry less cooperative?"  
  
"It was a risk," Annwyl agreed, "but Voldemort wanted to be able to show Harry his strength if he resisted. There was always the ability to threaten your lives to make Harry cooperate if he still seemed too closely attached to you."  
  
Harry's mind whirled with the load of new information it was receiving. The scope of the plan to take over his soul was so great that Harry couldn't quite seem to grasp it all. He could see that having access to his magic would have been a great coup for Voldemort, but it seemed crazy to have gone to such lengths to gain it.  
  
"Was my capture for the same reason?" Remus asked. Annwyl nodded. "If you didn't learn of the plan to weaken Harry until just yesterday, how did you know to get me out of the castle, then?"  
  
The others gasped and several voices spoke at once. Dumbledore raised his hand, silencing the outbursts. "Annie, you knew of the plan to take Remus?"  
  
"I'm afraid I did, though I didn't know the significance for Harry at that time. Remember, I said I was to help them capture an Order member to place under Voldemort's control."  
  
More indignant exclamations burst forth, but this time it was Remus who silenced them. "Wyl said she knew, not that she did it."  
  
Harry stared blankly for a moment. "Then, what happened in your chambers that night? I saw her leave the Hall and I saw your rooms wrecked!"  
  
"Yes, I think we may have been a bit too convincing there, Wyl," Remus mused. "She came to warn me and helped me get out of the castle. Unfortunately, though Wyl was able to get me safely away from the castle, I wasn't able to get far enough away. The full moon and all... They caught up to me right after moonset."  
  
"I never intended for Remus to be captured," Annwyl snapped. "That would be the last thing I would want. That was also one of that Malfoy brat's little tricks. Of course, if you had stayed put in your rooms over Christmas holidays, Remus, he would never have seen you."  
  
"Yes, well, when Harry said you weren't in your rooms and you'd left the door open, I panicked. I didn't know Snape had the boy hiding in the corridors. We thought he'd gone home for the holidays," Remus defended himself.  
  
"What?" Harry was stunned and incredulous. "Malfoy was there?" In a sudden flash of memory, Harry recalled the shadowy side passage on the route to Remus' rooms in the dungeons. Yes, Malfoy's presence would explain Snape's entrance from that direction. It also explained that uneasy rush he'd felt as he went looking for Remus the night of his disappearance.  
  
"Yes. Snape was there, too, and though he might have turned Remus in eventually, he wasn't a part of that project. It was Malfoy who turned him over. I had to look like I was cooperating, but in the end, I managed to get Remus out and make it look like Malfoy had been incompetent." She gave a particularly unpleasant smile. "Voldemort wasn't at all happy with young Malfoy over that. No, not happy at all..."  
  
Hermione looked horrified and Ginny stared openly before swallowing and asking, "You mean, he was punished? And you let that happen? Even though you were the one that did it?"  
  
Annwyl looked surprised. "What would you have had me do, Ginny? Tell them what I did? Look at it this way. He turned Remus in to Voldemort. I think he got what was coming to him."  
  
Harry squirmed uncomfortably. While he definitely loathed Draco Malfoy, he wasn't sure that he could muster that much satisfaction to hear that he'd been punished by Voldemort. Glancing at Remus, he could see the man felt the same way. Clearly, Annwyl's methods and opinions, while serving the side of the Light, were something less than kind. The thought made Harry distinctly ill at ease.  
  
"What about Harry?" Ginny questioned abruptly. "I saw you in that corridor. It looked to me as if you were pretty well involved in taking him." She scowled. "Straight to Voldemort, I might add."  
  
"I didn't have much warning, Ginny. Remember, we weren't all aware of what others were doing. I didn't find out about the plan to take Harry until that evening. Ron and Hermione had already been taken before I knew a thing about any of it. I only had time to get Harry's Contemplation Sphere and go looking for him. I hoped I'd get him away, but there wasn't much time and he was fighting me."  
  
Harry looked a little defiant at that. "I don't think you can blame me, you know. You hadn't given me much reason to trust you." He was pleased to see Annwyl's gaze drop in discomfort. "And how did you get my Sphere, anyway? Even if you are a professor, I can't imagine you marching through the common room and up to my dorm."  
  
"No, I used my broom to fly up to your window. Then, I just summoned the Sphere out. From what little I'd learned earlier that day and what I'd seen of your behavior, I suspected you'd been fed some cock and bull story about your friends. I was hoping I'd find out what and be able to get you to see some truth in your sphere. Luckily, my guess was right and Snape had made the mistake of explaining things to Malfoy. The boy has a very loose tongue."  
  
Ginny looked somewhat mollified by this explanation, but still far from happy. "What about me? Was I just in the way?"  
  
"Frankly, yes," answered Annwyl bluntly. "However, in the end, it may have been for the best. At least, Harry wasn't sitting around in that cellar alone. Better for morale. Misery loves company and all that."  
  
For a moment, no one knew what else to say or ask. Finally, Ron stirred.  
  
"How did you do all this spy stuff for You-Know-Who and go to see him and all without knowing about Snape?" he wanted to know.  
  
"Well, I knew he was there, of course," answered Annwyl, "but we weren't working together. I highly doubt he knew just what I was doing, to be honest. Voldemort prefers his followers to know as little about one another and the structure of his forces as possible. Safer for him, should one of them be captured. Snape distrusted me, but I don't know just what he knew about me. Certainly, it wouldn't have been safe for him to ask. That would have revealed much too much about him and his activities."  
  
"I just can't believe that Snape has really been against us all along," Hermione said, shaking her head. "I mean, he even saved Harry's life when Quirrel was trying to hex him off that broom. And last year, when we were at the Department of Mysteries, he sent the Order to help us."  
  
"Annwyl," Dumbledore spoke, "is there any chance that Severus could be under the influence of the same magic Voldemort used to control Percy Weasley?"  
  
"I have no way of knowing, Albus. It is possible, of course, but even if he is, the magic is irreversible. He's lost to us."  
  
Dumbledore stroked his long whiskers thoughtfully. "No, I don't believe that to be exactly true. Every magic has its counter-magic. Finding it would be a bit of a problem, of course. Then, one would have to be quite sure he was actually being controlled." The old man sighed heavily, his hand dropping back onto his lap.  
  
Harry could see the man was tiring but he couldn't wait any longer to ask. "Sir, can you please explain what I did last night? What was that light that knocked everyone out? Annwyl said I did that, but I don't know how I did and I don't really remember thinking much about it at all."  
  
"From what you and Annwyl have described to me, Harry, I believe you released a great deal of raw magical energy. The fact that only certain persons in the room were affected and that the light took an actual form, the arrows, suggests that it was not entirely uncontrolled. You did manage to focus your concentration enough to send that energy out in a somewhat specific manner." He peered at Harry over his glasses. "It takes a great deal of power to create that sort of magic, Harry. I believe this will be a skill that requires further examination and training. Without it, you might easily endanger yourself. But, learn to use it properly, and you may find it an invaluable tool. Give me some time to consider the situation. I believe I can make arrangements to help you with this, my boy."  
  
Annwyl, who had been watching her godfather with a concerned look, rose and took his hand. "That had better wait, Albus," she said gently. "That fig skin toxin is eating away at your synaptic connections as we speak. The sooner we get to Poppy for confirmation and an antidote, the better." She helped him to his feet and steadied him as they walked down the ward to the nurse's office. At Madame Pomfrey's door, Dumbledore hesitated and looked back at the group.  
  
"I have taken the liberty of contacting Mr. Ollivander. Once you have rested and recovered, you shall all need new wands. As a trip to Diagon Alley is neither feasible nor wise at this time, Mr. Ollivander has graciously agreed to come and see to your needs." He smiled tiredly. "Rest now. There is nothing more to be done for a time and your well-being is now my primary concern." With that, he entered the office and shut the door behind him.

Two more days passed before Harry saw Dumbledore again. Madame Pomfrey allowed Ginny and Ron to leave the hospital ward shortly after Dumbledore's departure. Harry, she kept until the following morning, though he petitioned very hard to be allowed to leave with the others. Remus stayed yet another day before being transferred to his dungeon chambers. It was, of course, still necessary to keep his presence in the castle a secret, so Harry wasn't able to spend as much time with Remus as he would have liked. He was quite pleased, therefore, when he, Ron and Hermione were summoned to Remus' rooms the day after his release from the hospital. They arrived to find Ginny, Annwyl and Dumbledore seated with Remus before the fire.  
  
"Excellent!" Remus exclaimed with a smile. "You three look much better than when I saw you last."  
  
"I think we can say the same of you, Remus," Hermione returned with a smile. The man did look a great deal better. His leg was still bandaged and supported on a cushion beside him on the settee, but the bruises and cuts had healed and faded. His eyes were bright again and it looked as though he had rested.  
  
Though still subdued, Ginny looked better rested, as well. After some discussion among the Weasley clan, it was deemed best to wait until the end of term to have a quiet family memorial service for Percy. They wanted as little public attention as possible for Percy's sake and it would give Ron and Ginny time to complete their studies. This was particularly critical for Ginny as the OWL exams were practically upon her. Harry had seen her tucked away in a corner of the common room for hours at a stretch during the last couple of days. He knew, however, that Hermione had been studying with her and trying to see she kept proper hours.  
  
The greatest change was in Dumbledore. Harry couldn't help gaping in astonishment at the difference a couple of days had made. His eyes were bright, his cheeks a healthy pink and the walking stick was gone entirely. Harry noticed, also, the quaver in hand and voice had disappeared. Whatever antidote Madame Pomfrey had administered, it had been extraordinarily effective. Harry couldn't help a swell of hope and confidence upon seeing the headmaster so much recovered.  
  
"Now that we are all together," Dumbledore said, smiling, "I shall send for Mr. Ollivander. While I am quite certain he can be trusted to maintain the strictest discretion, I ask that none of you reveal that you are still within the confines of the school. Mr. Ollivander is unaware of our location and it is best for all concerned that he remain so."  
  
The headmaster turned and tossed something that looked a great deal like Floo powder into the fire. The reaction, however, was more spectaular than any Floo powder Harry had ever used. Moments later, a small man with silvery eyes popped out of the fireplace levitating a large trunk at his side.  
  
"My dear Mr. Ollivander," Dumbledore greeted him, "how good of you to come to us. We are in need of five wands today."  
  
"Professor Dumbledore," Ginny rose and came to stand beside him. "Sir, I'd like to use Percy's wand, if I may."  
  
"Gin, you don't have to do that," Ron said quickly. "You've got OWLs and Percy wouldn't have wanted you to sacrifice those for him."  
  
"I don't intend to sacrifice anything," Ginny answered calmly. "Mr. Ollivander, I was wondering if you could please test the wand for me. Is there a way to tell if it will work well for me?"  
  
"It is highly irregular," he replied thoughtfully, "but if the wand is mostly compatible, perhaps some adjustments could be made. Let us have a look, then, shall we?" Ginny drew Percy's wand from her robe pocket and held it out. "Hmmm... Oak with a hair of a unicorn tail, twelve and a half inches. Quite rigid. Should be effective for most charms, jinxes and hexes. Not quite as effective for the more delicate arts such as divination. It seems in fine repair. Well, Miss Weasley, give it a wave then, and we'll see what we have."  
  
Ginny stood back slightly and aimed at the low table next to Remus' settee. "Rosetum Apperitum." A large arrangement of roses in all colors of the rainbow appeared on the table with a pop.  
  
"Oh, well done, Miss Weasley! Well done, indeed!" Mr. Ollivander applauded lightly and leaned over to bury his nose in the blooms. "Yes, yes. The wand works quite well, but I think with a bit of a tweak, we can improve the performance." Taking the wand, the elderly man ran his own wand back and forth across it with a light scraping sound. The tip of Percy's wand glowed slightly and seemed to shrink in on itself. "There. I've shortened it a touch. Try again, if you please."  
  
Ginny gave the wand a light swish and a shower of tiny crystals sprayed from the tip, floating gently onto the roses, covering each with what looked like drops of indelible dew. She looked up at the others with a smile. "Yes, I believe this will do quite well. Thank you, Mr. Ollivander."  
  
Then, one after the other, Hermione, Ron and Remus experimented with the wands which packed Ollivander's trunk. Before long, each was outfitted with a suitable wand. Harry rose from his seat to have his turn at the trunk, but Dumbledore held out a restraining hand.  
  
"A moment please, Harry," he said kindly. "Mr. Ollivander, I have a special request for Mr. Potter." Ollivander bowed slightly. "I have, here, a hair from the tail of a centaur - a friend of mine - who, upon hearing of the need for a new wand, offered it for Mr. Potter's use. Additionally, Fawkes has offered a tail feather since Mr. Potter's last wand performed so admirably with that core." At his words, there was a rustle in the chimney flue and Fawkes swooshed out of the fireplace, landing on Harry's arm. The bird peered keenly into Harry's face, then rose into the air above them. With a single piercing note, he dropped one of his beautiful gilded scarlet plumes at Harry's feet. Another swoosh, and the bird disappeared back up the flue and was gone.  
  
Harry had to believe that Ollivander was as amazed as the rest of them, but no surprise showed in the silvery moon-like eyes. "Quite so, Professor. Quite so. I shall construct a wand of holly, as before, with a new core of phoenix tail wrapped with centaur hair. It should be as effective for charms, hexes and the like as Miss Weasley's but the centaur hair will give it the finesse for more delicate magic as well. It will take a day or so, however, to construct such a wand."  
  
"That will do very well, thank you," replied Dumbledore, obviously much satisfied. "Harry can make use of one of the spares kept for just such a circumstance until his new one arrives."  
  
"Very good. In that event, I really must be off. It has been a distinct pleasure." Dumbledore provided another handful of the special Floo powder and Ollivander was gone.  
  
"Professor," Harry asked, "are you, that is, can you tell me who the centaur is?"  
  
"Ah. Firenze, of course. He has had nothing to say to me these last six months but that Mars is unusually bright. Then, the night you disappeared, he came to me, informed me you would be needing a new wand, and gave me the hair from his own tail." Dumbledore smiled at Harry's surprise. "Yes, well, I have learned to accept what seems quite strange in a conversation with a centaur. I find that if one waits long enough, the sense generally becomes apparent."  
  
"Professor, what about Mars? Even Remus said that last summer when we were all at Order headquarters," interjected Ron.  
  
"I am afraid I have little to add, Mr. Weasley. Mars has figured somewhat more prominently in the star charts which could be said to govern various people and time frames of recent. The centaurs are quite attuned to the stars and their patterns, but humans generally find it rather difficult to comprehend their observations."  
  
"They've been predicting you, at least part of the time, haven't they?" questioned Harry looking at Annwyl who had been quite silent for some time. "Your Patronus is even an Aresean Hawk."  
  
"They might have done," Annwyl answered a tad uncomfortably. "Mars does play a significant role in my personal star chart. It does seem that whenever there is an increase of astronomical observations involving Mars, there is a correlation with some significant events in my life. However, I am uncomfortable assuming the centaurs have been referring to me in particular. I believe it is more likely they were speaking of recent circumstances." As an afterthought, she added, "And, believe me, I'd choose another Patronus if I could. That hawk is fairly creepy."  
  
Remus snorted in sudden laughter and brought an end to the conversation with vigorous requests that they all stay for tea. The conversation turned abruptly to lighter subjects, discussing nothing more fearful than the OWL exams facing Ginny in just under two weeks.

Harry would never have guessed how quickly life could revert to something that resembled normality. With the dread of his dreams and visions gone, Harry found himself sleeping again, at last. To be sure, he still had dream from which he woke with scar tingling, but they remained the indistinct, vaguely unpleasant dreams he'd nearly grown accustomed to. Clearly, Voldemort had gotten clean away and was somewhat less than delighted with the outcome.  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione could again be found together most times. They did sit up late into the night shortly after their return from Little Hangleton, talking out all they'd experienced and whatever tensions had existed between them melted away in their stream of conversation. Ginny was considerably less prickly and while she no longer avoided anyone, she was not among the cheerful laughing group before the fire in the common room each night. Much could doubtless be attributed to her OWL revision for all the fifth years were in the final stages of panic and preparation, but to those who knew her and what happened to Percy, it was plain that she still mourned the loss of her brother.  
  
Fortunately for them all, Dumbledore had managed to divert the press from the school. The story which appeared in The Daily Prophet was no worse than a front page story marking a skirmish between Ministry Aurors and some of Voldemort's Death Eaters. Percy Weasley was listed as having been lost in the battle. Harry was relieved that the Weasleys could be spared the difficult explanations belonging to the event. Another story appeared beside this on the same day. This story told of the mysterious disappearance of both Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape from the Hogsmeade area. Nothing was said about their suspected affiliation with the Dark Lord, only that an investigation into their whereabouts was underway.  
  
Annwyl returned to her Potions lessons but since there was no longer a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, the dueling club met every evening. Annwyl also found time for a special OWL revision study class for the fifth years. The rest of the school was too delighted with the additional free periods this provided to worry too much about it all.  
  
So, with end of term preparations upon them, Harry found he was too busy to be overly curious about any plans Dumbledore was making for him to learn to control his magic. He did, sometimes, pause to wonder why he didn't see others having the same control issues, but tucked the question away in his mind for the time when he might be able to talk it over with Remus or Dumbledore, himself.  
  
His opportunity came more than a week after Ollivander's visit. OWL testing had begun and regular end of term exams were underway when Harry had a visit from a school owl at breakfast. A note written in Dumbledore's loopy scrawl dropped onto his bacon as the owl soared back out the window.  
  
_Harry,  
I understand you have the afternoon free after your exam in Care of Magical Creatures. Please come to my office when you return from the exam. We have some matters of additional training to discuss. A. Dumbledore_  
  
Harry was pleased but not surprised to find Remus waiting with Dumbledore in the Headmaster's office that afternoon. Taking the seat Dumbledore offered, Harry grinned at Remus. "Hagrid had Monty, the Graphorn, out there this morning. I don't think anyone was particularly glad to see him."  
  
"I imagine not," Remus answered with a similar grin. "Did you harvest a bit of horn, then, Harry?"  
  
"Not likely," Harry snorted in amusement. "I was satisfied to look at old Monty from more of a distance than that. Fortunately, Hagrid only wanted us to list various properties of the horn and hide and some of the behavior things we discussed in class. Didn't need to go any nearer to do that."  
  
"Hagrid's lessons are always inventive, if not calm," added Dumbledore with a smile. "Harry, I thank you for being so prompt in coming. I know you have a Transfiguration exam tomorrow, so I shall get straight to the point and not keep you longer than necessary.  
  
"I am sure you have wondered about your accidental magic and why you do not see your classmates struggling with it as you do." Harry leaned forward in his chair, nodding. "You see, magic is not a wholly reasonable part of our existence. In truth, it is as much controlled by our emotional state as it is by our knowledge of spells and such. It can be no secret to you that your emotional state has been highly charged in recent months. Much more so than what one generally experiences." Dumbledore smiled wryly. "Additionally, young people frequently find their magic somewhat more unstable at your age as they are still learning various ways to control it. The more pronounced their magical abilities, the more likely they are to experience this difficulty."  
  
"Excuse me, sir," Harry interrupted, "but then, why doesn't Hermione have this trouble. She's easily the smartest witch in our year and likely in the school but her magic is always under control."  
  
"I think you'd have to ask her about that, yourself, Harry. I suspect she channels her difficulties into her study habits. And you must admit, however admirable her efforts, you and Mr. Weasley have frequently accused her of some mental instability when it comes to your studies." Harry could see Remus struggling with a grin and had to smile himself. Yes, he and Ron were both guilty of accusing Hermione of being something less than sane when it came to lessons.  
  
"In your case, Harry, I think we may be better served by teaching you some techniques for allowing your magic to slip into unconventional uses while retaining control over the results." Blue eyes examined Harry over half-moon lenses. "You must admit that, while quite draining to yourself, the magic you performed at the Riddle manor was very effective."  
  
"How can we do that, sir?" Harry asked, puzzled.  
  
"Well, now that you have your wand again, I think you will find it less complex and draining than your last experience. That magic you released was raw and contained only barely by your own strong feelings. The only parameters over it seems to have been minimal protection for the members of your own party, Annwyl and myself. Everyone else was struck with its full force. Voldemort sought to divide you from those most important to you Harry, but your magic speaks his failure. When it came to the point, your feelings were as steadfast as he wished them to be severed. That magic was controlled by your love, Harry. The greatest power you possess and, in your case, a prodigious one, indeed."  
  
The three sat quietly for a moment, as Harry pondered this. What Dumbledore said did seem to explain everything, even to the horrible, twisting feeling he had experienced whenever faced with the headmaster himself. Harry's mind wanted to hate him, but his heart had fought. Finally, Harry met Dumbledore's gaze.  
  
"Alright, sir. I think I understand, but what do we do about it? I don't know how to release my magic that way. It just sort of happened. And why didn't it strike Annwyl? I didn't really have much reason to trust her at that point."  
  
"Well, Annwyl was certainly acting against Voldemort at that point, whatever her motivations may have been. You must have been able to distinguish that. I think it will be desirable for you to spend a portion of your summer at the Order headquarters, Harry. I must send you back to the Dursleys for a time to ensure the continued protection of the charms at work there. However, once we can make suitable adjustments to the wards, I will bring you there and begin your training, personally. There are several forms of magic available to us, but they are not generally taught in school. These are quite ancient and few of us have bothered with the difficult, energy-consuming process of mastering them. Indeed, under most circumstances, there would be no point. However, I have skill in these forms and can assist you. Annwyl will continue your fencing and dueling training and Remus will help you whenever he is able to be with you." He smiled at Harry. "I trust this meets with your approval."  
  
"Yes, sir," Harry grinned broadly. "I'd like that very much, sir."  
  
"Very well, then. You shall hear from me by owl as soon as everything is arranged. Now, off you go. I wouldn't want Professor McGonagall to think I was preventing you from revising for her exam, tomorrow."  
  
Harry hardly noticed where he was as he made his way back to the common room and dropped into a chair next to Ron and Hermione. With a promise to explain everything when they could be alone, he settled down with his friends for a final evening of study. It was enough to know that he wouldn't be stuck with the Dursleys for the entire summer, but it was nothing short of astonishing that he would be training with Dumbledore, himself. Harry couldn't help the constant smile of satisfaction on his face.Three days later, with exams complete, trunks packed and the Leaving Feast consumed, Harry stood on the front steps of the castle where the students were queing up for the thestral-drawn carriages which would take them to the station to board the train home. Ron and Hermione stood with him, as did Neville, Luna and Dean. Ginny could be seen up ahead, climbing into a carriage with several of her dorm mates. Harry wasn't entirely surprised to see a number of the faculty joining them for the trip to the station. Upon reaching the train, he, Ron and Hermione found a compartment and stowed their trunks. They were surprised then, for the saw that the faculty boarded the train with the students. Seeing Annwyl moving along the corridor outside their compartment, Harry stopped her.  
  
"Are the professors riding with us today, Annwyl?"  
  
"After what happened in September, you need to ask?" was the only reply as she moved off along the corridor, checking in on students as she passed.  
  
Conversation between the three stayed light as the train sped towards King's Cross. They knew there'd be plenty of serious talk in their future as Dumbledore had suggested that Ron and Hermione might be brought to headquarters for some dueling training as well. For now, it was enough to be together and they passed the time with chess and Exploding Snap and even a rather messy round of Gobstones, after which Hermione flatly refused to play any longer and retrieved a book from her bag.  
  
Shortly after, the plump witch with the snack trolley came through and after stuffing himself on cauldron cakes, Ron settled into the corner seat to doze. Hermione leaned back against his shoulder as she read. Before long, her book had drooped into her lap and she slept, as well. Harry sat, watching out the window at the flashing scenery, his mind blank and relaxed. The sound of the compartment door sliding open brought Harry up with a jerk.  
  
"Oh, Harry, I'm sorry" Ginny whispered stepping in and sliding the door shut, carefully. "I didn't mean to startle you." She glanced at Ron and Hermione asleep and then at the empty seat beside Harry. Blushing slightly, she added, "Do you mind if we talk a bit?"  
  
"Oh, er, yeah. I mean, no, uh, sure," Harry stammered and motioned to the seat. "Sit down." He watched her warily, wondering what she wanted to talk about. They had hardly spoken since the night in the Riddle house and all their conversations previous to that had been something less than friendly.  
  
"Harry, I feel I owe you an apology," she began primly, staring at her hands folded tightly in her lap. "I've been thoroughly foul to you for months now, but I didn't mean to be. That is, it wasn't your fault." She sighed and lifted her eyes to meet his. "It was mine." Harry started to offer some polite protest, but she stopped him with a look. "No, you see, I was very angry with you, Harry, but I shouldn't have been. It was stupid and I was being childish."  
  
"Why were you angry with me, Ginny?" he asked, realizing he sounded more than a little hurt. But that was honest. He was hurt.  
  
Ginny shook her head impatiently. "Because I was being a stupid, spoiled, little girl, that's why. Harry, it isn't any secret how I have looked up to you ever since we met." Harry dropped his gaze, blushing. Yes, it hadn't really been a secret. "You see, to me, you were always a hero. You were the one who saved the Philosopher's Stone from Quirrel and Voldemort. You were the one who killed the basilisk and ruined the diary when you came to get me out of the Chamber. You saved Sirius from the Dementors not once, but twice when Fudge planned to have him kissed. You even managed to get through the TriWizard Tournament, and bring Cedric back after Voldemort killed him." By now, her eyes were swimming with tears and Harry began to feel a little panicky. He wasn't sure what to say but Ginny didn't seem to notice and rushed on. "And last year, when Sirius... oh, Harry, I know you have been hurting and you were so angry at everyone, but all I could think was how you had gone off to find Sirius when you thought he was in danger."  
  
At this, Harry frowned and looked away. "I was stupid that night, Ginny. Please, I'd rather not talk about it."  
  
Ginny impulsively reached out and touched his arm. "I'm sorry, Harry. I won't mention it again, but I just have to say this all now." Her eyes were pleading. "Please." Harry nodded reluctantly and she continued. "You see, after all that I had seen you do, when Percy got into trouble, I guess I just sort of expected that you would do something about that, too. It was stupid and unfair, of course, but seeing you so distant and depressed and, I don't know, almost helpless, I just got furious. It was like someone kicked my legs out from under me or something." She bowed her head, tears now splashing on her lap quite obviously. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I've been horrible, but I didn't mean to be. I would never... I only...I'm just very sorry."  
  
Harry gaped at her for a moment, completely unable to form a coherent sentence. He's had no idea she'd felt that way about it. No wonder she'd been so unhappy. She was right, it wasn't fair, but Harry's thoughts went back to the morning, just a year before, when he smashed nearly everything in Dumbledore's office. It wasn't fair, but he thought he could understand.  
  
"Ginny, please don't worry. It's alright. I think I know how you felt. Someday, remind me and I'll tell you all about the time I wrecked Dumbledore's office. But for now, let's just let it go." He smiled at her and she returned it with a quavery smile of her own. Harry started to shift in his seat, reaching out to wipe a tear drop from her cheek. Just at that moment, the train gave a lurch to the side and Ginny was thrown into Harry's outstretched arm. She flushed a bit and Harry was sure he'd turned a horrible color, but he was afraid to move. Ginny looked up at him with a sweet smile and kissed him lightly on the cheek.  
  
Neither Harry nor Ginny happened to be paying the least attention to Ron just then, but if they had, they would have noticed that the snores had ceased and the corner of his mouth lifted in the barest ghost of a smile.  
  
With no further incident, the train arrived at King's Cross and Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny piled off the train with their luggage. They were met immediately by all the Weasleys at once. Even Bill and Charlie had come to meet the train. There was much hugging and hand shaking but when things had settled down a bit, Mrs. Weasley pulled a parcel from her bag and handed it to Harry.  
  
"Harry, dear, Annwyl told us what happened to your Contemplation Sphere. We thought you might like a replacement. Arthur and I charmed another for you." She hugged him tightly. "Use it for some happy memories, dear." Harry nodded, smiling but too choked to speak.  
  
Clearing his throat, Arthur Weasley leaned in, hand outstretched. "This is for you, too, Harry. The aurors found it at the Riddle home and Shacklebolt gave it to me. Remus recognized it and asked me to pass it on to you."  
  
Harry took the object and looked at it in wonder. It was Sirius' pocket watch. It had been missing since the night he was taken and Harry had sadly given up ever seeing it again. Turning the lovely piece over in his hands, he ran his thumb over the inscription.  
  
Go where you will, the bond of affection remains.  
  
"Thanks very much, Mr. Weasley," Harry said softly. "I'm really glad to have this back."  
  
Slowly, they made their way out of the station. Across the street in the car park, Harry could see the purplish face of his Uncle Vernon glaring in the direction of the station entrance. With a sigh, he bade good bye to the Weasleys and turned to Ron and Hermione.  
  
"Write a lot, yeah? I don't know when I'll get away from the Dursleys, but I'll feel a lot better hearing from you both." Ron and Hermione both looked surprised at such an admission coming from Harry, but nodded their agreement. Ron slapped him on the back and Hermione hugged him tightly. Then he saw Ginny standing a little apart. "Ginny, I'd er, that is, I'd like it if...uh,"  
  
"I'll write too, then, shall I?" she interrupted with a shy smile. Harry grinned and nodded.  
  
With a final wave, he turned and trundled his luggage trolley across the road to his uncle's car. Nothing was really any better, but he knew that no matter what was ahead or where this path might take them, the inscription on the watch was true.  
  
The bond of affection remains.**Fin**   
  
_This story is dedicated to my husband who has, in his usual loving and wonderful way, given a great deal of his own time and energy that I might expend mine in writing this tale. It is also a gift to my son, who will , some day very soon, be ready to lose himself in the wonderful world J.K. Rowling has created. Little Man, this story is a gift for you with all the love your mommy can muster._


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